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Columbia  ^ntbcrjsitp 

LIBRARY 


GIVEN   BY 


A    MEMORIAL 

of  the 

Rev.  Robert  CoUyer,  D.D.,  Litt.D. 

Late  Minister  of  the 

Unitarian  Church  of  the  Messiah 

New  York  City- 


New  York  City- 
Published  by  Authority  of  the 
Board  of  Trustees 

1914 


f^ff' 


Unhurt  fflflUg^r 


Sorn  in  2CrtgI;IpQ,  Englanli 
Srrrmbrr  a.  1023 


1B73. 

MinxBttr  nf  tijp  Unitarian  QUiurrlj  of  tl|t 
Mtsamlf,  ^m  ^atk,  1B7S-131Z. 

"Ifr  ifslb  faat  to  tlfp  tljinga  mlfitif  arr  9006." 


Sua  in  Nrto  fork.  N.  f . 
Notifmbrr  30.  1312 

And  I|r  tmiB  not.  for  (6ab  took  Ifint." 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 


PAGE 


In  Memoriam 
Introduction 


The  Funeral  Service 

(i)     Address  by  Merle  St.  Croix  Wright 

(2)  Address  by  Frank  Oliver  Hall 

(3)  Address  by  John  Haynes  Holmes   . 

(4)  Prayer  by  John  Haynes  Holmes     . 

The  Memorial  Sermon,  by  John  Haynes  Holmes 

The  Memorial   Meeting   of  the   Robert   Collyer 

Men's  Club 

(i)      Address  by  J.  Burnet  Nash 

(2)  Address  by  S.  Adolphus  Knopf 

(3)  Address  by  William  M.  Brundage 

(4)  Address  by  Leon  A.  Harvey 

(5)  Address  by  John  Haynes  Holmes    . 


9 
15 
19 
24 

31 

35 

63 
63 

64 
71 
73 
80 


INTRODUCTION 

Robert  Collyer,  through  more  than  thirty-three 
years  the  honored  minister  of  the  Church  of  the  Mes- 
siah in  New  Yoric,  the  revered  father  in  the  spirit  of 
two  full  generations  of  its  worshipers,  and  the  beloved 
friend  of  a  host  of  men  and  women  in  this  country  and 
in  England,  passed  away  on  November  30,  19 12,  in 
the  eighty-ninth  year  of  his  age. 

On  his  return  to  his  home  in  September,  after  the 
summer  vacation  season  in  Gloucester,  Dr.  Collyer 
seemed  to  be  in  that  unvarying  condition  of  good  health 
and  abounding  vitality  which,  had  long  been  the  won- 
der of  all  those  who  knew  him.  He  showed  his  usual 
keen  interest  in  the  affairs  of  the  church,  took  his  ac- 
customed part  in  the  Sunday  services,  and  went  about 
the  daily  routine  which,  he  had  followed  year  in  and 
year  out  for  well-nigh  half  a  century.  Suddenly,  on 
the  first  day  of  November,  he  was  stricken.  After  the 
initial  collapse,  he  seemed  to  rally  for  a  little  time, 
but  the  indications  of  recovery  were  deceptive.  On 
Wednesday,  November  6th,  he  took  to  his  bed,  and 
slowly,  by  almost  imperceptible  degrees  from  day  to 
day,  faded  away.  At  last,  close  to  midnight  on  Satur- 
day, the  30th.,  he  died.  No  lines  of  pain  were  on  his 
quiet  face,  no  slightest  trace  of  struggle  disturbed  his 
last  hours  of  mortal  slumber.  He  "  fell  on  sleep  "  as 
sweetly  and  gently  as  a  tired  child  at  the  end  of  a 
long  and  happy  day.  Like  Enoch  of  old  time,  he 
simply  "  was  not,  for  God  took  him." 

7 


8  INTRODUCTION 

On  Monday,  December  2d,  after  priv^ate  prayers  in 
the  home,  Dr.  Collyer's  body  was  placed  In  the  church, 
and  all  who  would  were  permitted  to  look  upon  his 
noble  countenance.  On  Tuesday  morning  a  public 
funeral  was  held  in  the  church  in  the  presence  of  a 
great  company  of  friends.  The  services  were  conducted 
by  Mr.  Holmes,  and  addresses  were  given  by  Dr.  Frank 
Oliver  Hall,  of  the  Church  of  the  Divine  Paternity, 
Dr.  Merle  St.  Croix  Wright,  of  the  Lenox  Avenue 
Unitarian  Church,  and  Mr.  Holmes.  On  the  follow- 
ing Sunday,  December  8th.  —  which  by  a  beautiful  co- 
incidence marked  Dr.  Collyer's  eighty-ninth  birthday 
—  the  regular  service  of  worship  was  made  a  Memo- 
rial in  his  honor.  Still  later,  on  Tuesday,  December 
1 8th,  a  memorial  meeting  was  held  by  the  Robert 
Collyer  Men's  Club,  at  which  addresses  were  deliv- 
ered by  Mr.  J.  Burnet  Nash,  Dr.  S.  Adolphus  Knopf, 
Rev.  Leon  A.  Harvey,  Rev.  William  M.  Brundage, 
and  Mr.  Holmes. 

By  vote  of  the  Board  of  Trustees,  a  committee  was 
appointed,  under  the  chairmanship  of  Dr.  S.  Adolphus 
Knopf,  to  prepare  and  publish  a  permanent  record  of 
these  services  and  meetings.  The  committee  have 
fulfilled  this  honorable  duty,  and  respectfully  present 
this  volume  to  the  members  of  the  church  and  the 
friends  of  Dr.  Collyer. 


THE  FUNERAL  SERVICE 

Held  at  the  Church  of  the  Messiah,  New  York  City, 
on  December  3,   1912,  at  10  A.M. 

HYMN 

"  O  worship  the  King,  all-glorious  above! 
O  gratefully  sing  his  power  and  his  love! 
Our  Shield  and  Defender,  the  Ancient  of  Days, 
Pavilioned  in  splendor,  and  girded  with  praise. 

O  tell  of  his  might,  O  sing  of  his  grace, 
Whose  robe  is  the  light,  whose  canopy  space! 
His  chariots  of  wrath  the  deep  thunder  clouds  form, 
And  dark  is  his  path  on  the  wings  of  the  storm. 

Thy  bountiful  care  what  tongue  can  recite? 

It  breathes  in  the  air,  it  shines  in  the  light. 

It  streams  from  the  hills,  it  descends  to  the  plains, 

And  sweetly  distils  in  the  dew  and  the  rains. 

Frail  children  of  dust,  and  feeble  as  frail, 
In  thee  do  we  trust,  nor  find  thee  to  fail ; 
Thy  mercies  how  tender,  how  firm  to  the  end, 
Our  Maker,  Defender,  Redeemer,  and  Friend!" 

READINGS 

BY    JOHN    HAYNES    HOLMES 

Praise  ye  the  Lord.  Praise  ye  the  Lord  from  the  heav- 
ens. Praise  him  in  the  heights.  Praise  ye  him,  all  his 
angels.  Praise  ye  him,  all  his  host.  Praise  ye  him,  sun 
and  moon ;  praise  him,  all  ye  stars  of  light.     Praise  him, 

9 


lo  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

ye  heavens  of  heavens,  and  ye  waters  that  be  above 
the  heavens.  Let  them  praise  the  name  of  the  Lord, 
for  he  commanded,  and  they  were  created.  He  hath 
also  established  them  forever  and  ever.  He  hath  made 
a  decree  which  shall  not  pass  away. 

Praise  the  Lord  from  the  earth,  ye  dragons  and  all 
deeps;  fire  and  hail,  snow  and  vapors;  stormy  wind, 
fulfilling  his  word;  mountains  and  all  hills;  fruitful 
trees  and  all  cedars;  beasts  and  all  cattle;  creeping 
things  and  flying  fowl;  kings  of  the  earth  and  all  peo- 
ples; princes  and  all  judges  of  the  earth;  both  young 
men  and  maidens;  old  men  and  children:  let  them 
praise  the  name  of  the  Lord;  for  his  name  alone  is  ex- 
cellent; his  glory  is  above  the  earth  and  heaven. 

Make  a  joyful  noise  unto  the  Lord,  all  ye  lands. 
Serve  the  Lord  with  gladness:  come  before  his  pres- 
ence with  singing.  Know  ye  that  the  Lord,  he  is  God. 
It  is  he  that  made  us,  and  not  we  ourselves.  We  are 
his  people,  and  the  sheep  of  his  pasture.  Enter  into 
his  gates  with  thanksgiving,  and  into  his  courts  with 
praise:  give  thanks  unto  him,  and  bless  his  name.  For 
the  Lord  is  good;  his  lovingkindness  endureth  forever, 
and  his  faithfulness  unto  all  generations. 

Who  shall  ascend  unto  the  hill  of  the  Lord?  or  who 
shall  stand  in  his  holy  place?  He  that  hath  clean 
hands,  and  a  pure  heart;  who  hath  not  lifted  up  his 
soul  unto  vanity,  nor  sworn  deceitfully.  He  shall  re- 
ceive a  blessing  from  the  Lord,  and  righteousness  from 
the  God  of  his  salvation.  He  shall  be  like  a  tree  planted 
by  the  rivers  of  water,  that  bringeth  forth  his  fruit  in 
his  season;  his  leaf  also  shall  not  wither,  and  whatso- 
ever he  doeth  shall  prosper.      Mark  the  perfect  man, 


THE  FUNERAL  SERVICE  ii 

and  behold  the  upright:  for  the  end  of  that  man  is 
peace. 

Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit:  for  theirs  is  the  king- 
dom of  heaven.  Blessed  are  they  that  mourn:  for  they 
shall  be  comforted.  Blessed  are  the  meek:  for  they 
shall  inherit  the  earth.  Blessed  are  they  which  do  hun- 
ger and  thirst  after  righteousness:  for  they  shall  be 
filled.  Blessed  are  the  merciful :  for  they  shall  obtain 
mercy.  Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart:  for  they  shall 
see  God.  Blessed  are  the  peacemakers:  for  they  shall 
be  called  the  children  of  God. 

Though  I  speak  with  the  tongues  of  men  and  of 
angels  and  have  not  love,  I  am  become  as  sounding 
brass  or  a  tinkling  cymbal.  And  though  I  have  the 
gift  of  prophecy,  and  know  all  mysteries  and  all  knowl- 
edge; and  though  I  have  all  faith,  so  that  I  could 
remove  mountains,  but  have  not  love,  I  am  nothing. 
And  though  I  bestow  all  my  goods  to  feed  the  poor, 
and  though  I  give  my  body  to  be  burned,  but  have  not 
love,  it  profiteth  me  nothing.  Love  suffereth  long,  and 
is  kind;  love  envieth  not;  love  vaunteth  not  itself,  is 
not  puffed  up,  doth  not  behave  itself  unseemly,  seeketh 
not  its  own,  is  not  easily  provoked,  thinketh  no  evil; 
rejoiceth  not  in  iniquity,  but  rejoiceth  In  the  truth; 
beareth  all  things,  belleveth  all  things,  hopeth  all  things, 
endureth  all  things.  Love  never  faileth:  but  whether 
there  be  prophecies,  they  shall  fail;  whether  there  be 
tongues,  they  shall  cease;  whether  there  be  knowledge, 
it  shall  be  done  away.  For  we  know  in  part,  and  we 
prophesy  In  part:  but  when  that  which  is  perfect  is 
come,  then  that  which  Is  in  part  shall  be  done  away. 


12  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

.  .   .  And  now  abideth  faith,  hope,  love,  these  three; 
and  the  greatest  of  these  is  love. 

Why  mourn  we  for  our  ancient  friend?  Behold,  I 
say  unto  you  that  God  created  man  to  be  immortal. 
He  made  him  in  the  image  of  his  own  eternity.  The 
souls  of  men  are  in  the  hands  of  God,  and  there  shall 
no  evil  touch  them.  In  the  sight  of  the  unwise,  they 
seem  to  die;  and  their  going  from  us  is  thought  to  be 
destruction.  But  they  are  in  peace,  for  their  hope  is 
full  of  immortality.  Eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard, 
neither  have  entered  into  the  heart  of  man,  the  things 
which  God  hath  prepared  for  them  that  love  him. 
For  which  cause  we  faint  not;  but  though  our  outward 
man  perish,  yet  the  inward  man  is  renewed  day  by  day. 
For  our  light  affliction,  which  is  but  for  a  moment,  work- 
eth  for  us  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of 
glory;  while  we  look  not  at  the  things  which  are  seen, 
but  at  the  things  which  are  not  seen;  for  the  things 
which  are  seen  are  temporal,  but  the  things  which  are 
not  seen  are  eternal. 

And  I  saw  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth:  for  the 
first  heaven  and  the  first  earth  were  passed  away. 
And  I  heard  a  great  voice  out  of  heaven  saying.  Be- 
hold, the  tabernacle  of  God  is  with  men,  and  he  will 
dwell  with  them,  and  they  shall  be  his  people,  and 
God  himself  shall  dwell  with  them,  and  be  their  God. 
And  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes; 
and  there  shall  be  no  more  death,  neither  sorrow,  nor 
crying,  neither  shall  there  be  any  more  pain;  for  the 
former  things  are  passed  away. 


THE  FUNERAL  SERVICE  13 

Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul,  and  forget  not  all  his 
benefits.  Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul,  whose  mercy  is 
from  everlasting  to  everlasting.  Bless  the  Lord,  O 
my  soul,  and  all  that  is  within  me,  bless  his  holy  name. 

"Why  mourn  ye  that  our  aged  friend  is  dead? 
•    Ye  are  not  sad  to  see  the  gathered  grain : 
Nor  when  the  mellow  fruits  the  orchards  cast, 
Nor  when  the  yellow  woods  let  fall  the  ripened  mast. 

"  Ye  sigh  not  when  the  sun,  his  course  fulfilled  — 
His  glorious  course,  rejoicing  earth  and  sky  — 
In  the  soft  evening,  when  the  winds  are  stilled, 

Sinks  where  his  islands  of  refreshment  lie. 
And  leaves  the  smile  of  his  departure  spread 
O'er  the  warm-colored  heaven  and  ruddy  mountain-head. 

"  Why  weep  ye  then  for  him,  who,  having  won 
The  bound  of  man's  appointed  years,  at  last, 
Life's  blessings  all  enjoyed,  life's  labor  done. 

Serenely  to  his  final  rest  has  passed ; 
While  the  soft  memory  of  his  virtues  yet 
Lingers,  like  twilight  hues  when  the  bright  sun  is  set. 

"  His  youth  was  innocent;  his  riper  age 
Marked  with  some  act  of  goodness  every  day; 
And  watched  by  eyes  that  loved  him,  calm  and  sage, 

Faded  his  late  declining  years  away: 
Meekly  he  gave  his  being  up  and  went 
To  share  the  holy  rest  that  waits  a  life  well  spent. 

"  That  life  was  happy ;  every  day  he  gave 
Thanks  for  the  fair  existence  that  was  his; 
For  a  sick  fancy  made  him  not  her  slave. 
To  mock  him  with  her  phantom  miseries. 


14  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

No  chronic  tortures  racked  his  aged  limbs, 

For  luxury  and  sloth  had  nourished  none  for  him. 

"  And  I  am  glad  that  he  has  lived  thus  long, 
And  glad  that  he  has  gone  to  his  reward ; 
Nor  can  I  deem  that  Nature  did  him  wrong, 

Softly  to  disengage  the  vital  cord ; 
For  when  his  hands  grew  palsied,  and  his  eye 
Dark  with  the  mists  of  age,  it  was  his  time  to  die." 


HYMN 

"  Oh,  sometimes  gleams  upon  our  sight, 
Through  present  wrong,  the  eternal  Right; 
And  step  by  step,  since  time  began, 
We  see  the  steady  gain  of  man. 

That  all  of  good  the  past  hath  had 
Remains  to  make  our  own  time  glad, 
Our  common,  daily  life  divine. 
And  every  land  a  Palestine. 

Through  the  harsh  noises  of  our  day, 
A  low,  sweet  prelude  finds  it  way; 
Through  clouds  of  doubt,  and  creeds  of  fear, 
A  light  Is  breaking  calm  and  clear. 

Henceforth  my  heart  shall  sigh  no  more 
For  olden  time  and  holler  shore: 
God's  love  and  blessing,  then  and  there. 
Are  now  and  here  and  everywhere. 


THE  FUNERAL  SERVICE  15 

ADDRESS 

BY  MERLE  ST.  CROIX  WRIGHT 

Robert  Collyer  was  like  a  great  oak  of  his  native 
land,  destined  seemingly  to  stand  forever,  which  all 
men  regard  with  delight.  The  last  time  I  saw  him, 
and  perhaps  his  last  public  appearance,  was  in  Glouces- 
ter toward  September,  at  the  meeting  of  the  Ministers' 
Institute,  where  he  spoke  a  kind  of  farewell  to  the 
world,  loving  words  of  reminiscence  (and  what  fitter 
theme),  glorying  in  the  faith  and  rejoicing  in  the  fel- 
lowship. The  first  time  I  saw  him  was  in  this  city 
almost  thirty  years  ago.  How  much  is  changed  since 
then !  Through  the  present  minister  I  see  the  shad- 
ows of  his  predecessors:  Farley  and  Putnam,  Camp, 
Chadwick,  Williams;  and  around  them  the  goodly  com- 
pany of  their  supporters,  who  held  up  their  hands  in 
the  long  fight  for  righteousness.  And  "  Mother  Coll- 
yer! "  Who  that  was  present  does  not  remember 
the  celebration  of  the  seventieth  anniversary  of  the 
pastor  of  this  church.  He  seemed  to  be  growing 
older  till  that  time,  but  younger  afterwards:  the  first 
the  grief  of  earth  and  the  body's  burden;  the  second  a 
translation  in  the  spirit,  wherein  we  all  ascended.  And 
now  he  is  eighty-nine !  rival  to  Martineau,  and  to  Fur- 
ness,  his  dear  friend,  who  both  neared  ninety-five;  sign, 
as  we  believe,  of  the  rightness  of  their  lives  and  the 
vitality  of  their  minds. 

My  first  official  connection  with  him  was  twenty-five 
years  ago,  when,  upon  settling  in  this  city,  I  came  into 
the  rumor  of  his  recent  sermon  to  my  people-elect,  upon 
"  The   Faithful   29," —  the   exact  number,   though   he 


i6  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

did  not  then  know  it  —  of  men,  women,  and  children, 
"  all  souls  "  all  told,  present  at  the  reorganization  of 
the  new  Society.  At  my  ordination  that  December  he 
gave  the  right  hand  of  fellowship,  ending  with  the 
characteristic  words  "  Now  let  us  shake  again,"  and 
Dr.  Furness,  first  of  his  noble  line,  preached  the  ser- 
mon. Dr.  Collyer  helped  in  raising  money  for  my 
church  in  those  first  years,  though  I  remember  his  hard 
saying  to  me  in  that  hard  time,  "  You'll  have  to  wait 
a  year!     No  good  thing  was  ever  done  in  a  hurry!  " 

Robert  Collyer  was  a  great  yeoman  of  religion,  the 
Great  Commoner  —  to  whom  nothing  was  common  or 
unclean  In  itself!  A  national  figure,  through  his  lec- 
tures, "  Clear  Grit  "  and  others,  delivered  round  the 
land. 

He  presented  Humanity,  did  more  than  stand  for 
Man, —  busily,  even  fussily,  as  some  do.  He  was  Man. 
He  was  beloved  by  other  denominations :  to  them  he 
spoke  with  authority;  they  heard  him  gladly,  for  he 
could  say  like  the  old  woman  of  his  story  when  asked: 
"  What  denomination  do  you  belong  to?  "  "  I  don't 
belong  to  710  domination!  "  With  all  his  big  body, 
HE  WAS  A  SOUL;  his  was  a  spirit,  a  temper,  a  feel- 
ing:—  the  poetry  of  life  and  religion,  let  us  call  it;  a 
ripe  humanity  —  the  word  recurs.  How  he  knew  a 
man !  and  searched  him,  brusquely,  abruptly,  thor- 
oughly yet  tenderly,  but,  after  all,  with  swift,  slight 
survey,  easy  acceptance,  large  allowance.  He  wanted 
you  sociable  —  a  fellow-man;  if  sound  and  true,  you 
might  be  stupid!  Capricious  he  was,  and  had  a  highly 
personal  way  with  him,  but  how  benevolent  and  fath- 
erly, gracious  rather  than  genial,  with  a  tart  touch  of 
reserve,  as  if  his  was  a  hard  shell  to  get  out  of.     And 


THE  FUNERAL  SERVICE  17 

sensitive?  and  shy?  —  perhaps  he  could  most  show  his 
soul  in  public.  Who  that  reads  his  "  Father  Taylor  " 
does  not  know  it?  And  a  true  friend!  witness  his 
words,  and  grief  and  joy  without  and  beyond  words,  at 
John  Chadwick's  funeral.  His  tenderness,  his  wit,  are 
known  to  all;  his  story-telling,  never  declining  into 
"  anecdotage  "  ;  his  dramatic  point.  Also  his  loneli- 
ness!—  To  me  congratulating  him  upon  revisiting 
Yorkshire,  his  old  home,  he  replied:  "They  are  all 
gone,  the  folk  I  used  to  know;  it  is  like  walking  among 
shadows  upon  graves."  Yet  what  friendliness,  com- 
panionableness;  a  great  simplicity,  if  not  approachable- 
ness;  a  patience,  if  not  an  easy  affability;  and  glad,  and 
brave,  waiting  it  out,  to  life's  end.  Most  eminent 
also  was  his  mellow,  reconciling  quality,  his  mighty 
heart  in  prayer,  his  simple,  sympathetic,  comprehensive 
sense  of  presentation;  a  kind  of  domestic  intimacy,  a 
divine  innocence;  a  holy,  sunny  joy,  that  bathed  us  in 
the  light  of  love  and  trust,  like  an  old  nurse,  or  rather 
a  real  mother,  of  the  spirit.  He  could  listeii  as  well  as 
most  men  speak. 

Here  in  this  city  he  was  persona  grata.  The  old 
will  well  remember  his  friendship  with  Dr.  Gottheil, 
Rabbi  of  Temple  Emanuel,  symbol  of  that  alliance 
he  formed  with  sound  essential  manhood  everywhere. 
If  not  a  bishop  at  large,  he  was  a  bishop  enlarged;  a 
patriarchal  presence,  perpetual  benediction,  as  of  the 
greater  gods.  A  man,  in  sum,  who  held  all  gods  in 
solution  in  his  soul. 

Finally,  his  worth  to  you  measures  his  value  to  the 
world,  for  he  was  one  man  always,  everywhere.  Now 
he  has  folded  his  singing  robes  about  him,  and  has 
gone, —  after    patiently    enduring    earth    these    many 


1 8  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

years.  There  was  clay  in  him,  but  less  Adam's  clay 
than  Christ's;  and  if  the  first  man  was  a  living  soul, 
the  last  shall  ever  be  a  quickening  spirit.  But  yesterday 
afternoon  an  active  minister,  of  another  fellowship,  was 
telling  me  how  in  Chicago  after  the  great  fire  forty-five 
years  ago,  he  heard  Robert  Collyer  preach, —  then  a 
young  man,  in  the  full  vigor  of  half  these  years, — 
standing  outside  the  ruins  of  his  church,  against  the 
single  burnt  and  blackened  wall  remaining,  and,  at 
the  close,  invite  them  all  to  "  Come  again  next  Sunday! 
Our  building's  gone,  God's  roof  is  still  above  us."  So 
let  us  think  of  him,  as  the  angel  in  the  church  whose 
walls  are  the  width  of  the  world,  whose  dome  is  the 
height  of  the  sky,  whose  call  for  progress  is  to  all 
humanity. 

As  when  a  great  oak  falls,  a  space  is  made 

In  heaven,  and  earth  widens  to  the  gaze 
Though  vacant;  and  much  life  must  change  its  ways, 

And  many  miss  this  gratefulness  of  shade! 
So  slow  its  growth,  so  great  its  girth ;  though  swayed 

By  shock  of  storm  and  marred  by  waste  of  days, 
So  stalwart  showed !  —  we  lightly  thought  always 

It  would  be  with  us,  and  were  not  afraid. 

Nor  fear  we  now,  who  see  its  giant  crest 
The  heavens  enter,  rooted  in  our  hearts! 

Alas!  the  loss  Is  for  an  after-age. 

Death's  twilight  depth  a  deeper  truth  Imparts: 

As  through  some  minster  window,  facing  west, 
The  light  still  lingers  on  the  gospel  page. 


THE  FUNERAL  SERVICE  19 

ADDRESS 

BY  FRANK  OLIVER  HALL 

When  word  came  on  Sunday  morning  that  Robert 
CoUyer  had  "  fallen  on  sleep,"  as  he  himself  would 
say,  there  flashed  into  my  mind  the  words  of  his  teacher 
and  ours,  "  Whosoever  will  be  great  among  you,  let 
him  be  your  minister;  and  whosoever  will  be  chief 
among  you,  let  him  be  your  servant."  Robert  Collyer 
was  a  great  man,  but  when  that  is  said  and  the  question 
is  raised,  "  In  what  did  his  greatness  consist?  "  one 
finds  it  extremely  difficult  to  answer.  His  name  will 
not  be  written  among  the  great  intellectual  leaders  of 
his  time.  Even  if  in  his  early  days  he  had  had  all  the 
opportunities  of  education,  as  we  say,  it  is  doubtful 
whether  he  could  have  attained  to  intellectual  leader- 
ship. Measured  by  the  popular  standard  of  greatness 
in  our  time,  that  is,  great  possession,  he  falls  short,  and 
it  is  impossible  to  think  that  under  different  circum- 
stances it  would  have  been  otherwise.  We  may  imagine 
his  blacksmith's  hammer  developing  into  a  thousand 
trip-hammers  and  his  poor  forge  into  a  mile  of  rolling 
mills,  but  I  defy  anyone  to  imagine  Robert  Collyer  as 
a  modern  captain  of  industry.  He  does  not  fit  into 
that  picture.  It  is  easy  to  imagine  him  in  leather 
apron,  sleeves  rolled  up,  pounding  a  piece  of  hot  iron 
into  a  horseshoe  and  thinking  all  the  time,  "  That  must 
be  a  good  shoe  to  keep  my  neighbor's  horse  from  slip- 
ping on  the  icy  pavement,"  but  no  one  can  think  of  him 
as  Chairman  of  a  Board  of  Directors,  sitting  about  a 
mahogany  table,  seeking  for  his  own  enrichment  to 
regulate  the  price  of  horseshoes  for  a  nation.     If  in- 


20  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

stead  of  being  a  preacher  he  had  tried  politics,  it  is  dif- 
ficult to  think  of  him  in  the  House  of  Representatives, 
or  even  the  Senate,  or  occupying  any  political  office 
calling  for  large  executive  ability.  He  was  not  even  a 
great  orator,  if  you  look  for  one  whose  words  will 
arouse  to  a  furor  of  enthusiasm.  And  so,  if  someone 
who  never  knew  him  should  put  us,  his  lovers,  on  the 
witness  stand  and  cross  question  us  who  are  sure  that 
he  was  a  great  man,  I  fear  we  would  make  a  sorry 
spectacle  of  ourselves. 

And  yet  I  am  personally  convinced  that,  as  God 
counts  greatness,  he  was  the  greatest  man  that  I  ever 
knew.  Somehow  the  glory  of  his  personality  impressed 
itself  upon  those  who  met  him,  before  he  had  said  a 
word.  He  did  not  possess  what  we  are  accustomed  to 
call  an  imposing  personality  —  he  never  imposed  him- 
self upon  anyone.  Certainly  his  was  not  an  intru- 
sive personality,  for  he  was  the  most  modest  of  men. 
He  possessed  a  pervasive  personality.  Having  known 
him  once,  he  became  yours  forever.  This  church  is  full 
of  his  presence  to-day.  Not  one  of  us  who  does  not 
feel  that  here  he  is  in  the  midst  of  us.  If  someone 
should  ask  me  suddenly  how  many  times  I  had  seen  and 
talked  with  him  during  the  past  year,  on  the  impulse 
of  the  moment,  I  would  probably  reply,  "  Every  few 
days."  As  a  matter  of  fact  I  have  met  him  three 
times.  It  was  his  custom  once  a  year  to  go  to  the 
Chapin  Home  and  talk  to  the  old  folks  and  afterward 
take  them  by  the  hand.  But  if  you  were  to  speak  of 
Dr.  Collyer  to  these  same  old  folks,  you  would  feel 
sure  that  he  must  have  been  among  them  at  least  once  a 
week  and  was  the  personal  counselor  and  intimate 
friend  of  each  one.     The  interesting  fact  is  that  these 


THE  FUNERAL  SERVICE  21 

old  people  think  that  true.  The  still  more  interesting 
fact  is  that  it  is  true.  He  was  and  is  the  friend  and 
counselor  of  these  people,  and  what  is  more  he  will 
remain  so.  Carry  the  old  body  to  Woodlawn  and 
place  it  beneath  the  sod,  but  you  can  not  get  Robert 
Collyer  out  of  Chapin  Home,  or  out  of  this  church,  or 
out  of  this  city.  The  power  of  his  personality  per- 
vades us  all. 

He  was  a  powerful  man,  but  his  power  was  not  like 
the  rushing  river  or  like  the  tempestuous  wind,  it  was 
like  the  power  of  the  spring 'sun  which  shining  upon 
the  earth  makes  it  bud  and  blossom  and  bear  fruit. 

I  remember  distinctly  the  first  time  that  I  ever  saw 
him.  It  was  many  years  ago  in  my  youthful  days. 
His  fame  had  gone  before,  and  so  when  it  was  an- 
nounced that  he  would  speak  to  a  group  of  young  men, 
I  determined  to  be  one  of  them  and  went  prepared  to 
be  lifted  and  stirred  and  aroused  to  enthusiasm  by  the 
power  of  his  eloquence.  I  remember  that  when  I 
entered  I  thought  him  the  handsomest  man  that  I  had 
ever  seen  and  when  he  arose  to  speak  I  sat  forward 
on  my  chair  prepared  to  be  electrified.  Then  he  spread 
out  a  manuscript  and  began  quietly  to  read.  Soon  I 
sat  back  in  my  chair  and  knew  by  the  first  few  sen- 
tences that  I  was  to  receive  no  electric  shock.  He 
talked  about  books,  the  friendship  of  books,  the  com- 
radeship of  good  books.  I  have  forgotten,  of  course, 
almost  everything  that  he  said,  but  I  shall  never  forget 
the  impression  that  he  made  upon  me.  The  sunlight 
that  radiated  from  him  shone  into  the  dark  corners 
of  my  mind,  found  a  seed  there  and  set  it  to  germinat- 
ing. Books,  why  I  had  been  bombarded  and  battered 
with  books  all  my  life.     Books  were  the  things  out  of 


22  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

which  teachers  gave  lessons  over  which  a  fellow  must 
grind  whether  he  wanted  to  or  not.  Books  were  the 
objects  that  one  had  to  tie  up  with  a  strap  and  carry 
away  for  the  home  lessons.  I  knew  some  books  as 
enemies  and  hated  them  cordially;  I  knew  others  as 
handy  tools  with  which  one  might  construct  necessary 
information.  But  here  was  a  man  talking  about  the 
friendship  of  books  as  if  they  were  living  things.  He 
told  us  about  some  of  the  books  he  read  as  a  lad  after 
work  hours  by  the  light  of  his  father's  forge,  and  he 
named  some  that  had  been  his  inspiration  and  consola- 
tion through  the  trying  hours  of  his  life.  I  was 
amazed  to  discover  that  this  blacksmith  who  had  never 
been  to  school  except  for  a  few  months,  had  something 
which  I,  who  had  been  associating  with  books  all  my 
life  and  had  done  little  but  gone  to  school,  had  missed. 
So  I  went  away  with  a  new  sentiment  toward  books. 
I  turned  to  my  own  little  collection,  took  them  down 
one  by  one  and  began  to  realize  how  much  they  really 
meant  to  me,  and  how  empty  my  life  would  be  without 
them.  From  that  time  I  began  to  cultivate  the  friend- 
ship of  certain  books  and  they  have  been  my  compan- 
ions and  my  consolation  ever  since. 

Let  this  illustrate  what  this  man  has  been  doing  all 
his  life  and  the  way  in  which  he  has  done  it.  In  his 
thought  he  was  no  doubt  a  radical;  that  is,  he  went 
to  the  root  of  things.  But  when  he  had  reached  the 
root  he  did  not  root  it  up.  He  watered  it  and  it  be- 
gan to  bud  and  blossom.  "  When  I  go  to  hear  others 
preach,  I  am  apt  to  fall  in  love  with  the  preacher;  but 
when  I  go  to  hear  John  Knox  preach,  I  fall  out  of  love 
with  myself."  But  the  man  who  went  to  hear  Robert 
Collyer  preach  did  not  fall  out  of  love  with  himself, 


THE  FUNERAL  SERVICE  23 

or  the  preacher,  or  the  world,  or  its  God.  He  went 
away  feeling  that  it  is  a  good  world  presided  over  by  a 
good  God,  full  of  kind  and  neighborly  people  and  that 
he  himself  was  one  of  them;  if  he  had  not  done  as 
well  as  he  ought,  if  he  had  done  the  things  he  ought 
not  to  have  done  and  left  undone  the  things  he  ought  to 
have  done,  there  was  yet  health  in  him  and  if  the  good 
Father  would  give  him  time  and  opportunity  he  would 
prove  himself  worthy  of  his  sonship.  Did  the  preacher 
tell  "How  Enoch  walked  with  God"?  The  hearer 
became  sorry  that  he  had  neglected  so  great  salvation 
and  determined  that  he  too  would  seek  henceforth  the 
friendship  of  the  Great  Companion.  Did  the  preacher 
"Talk  with  Mothers"?  Every  woman  in  the  sound 
of  his  voice  began  to  look  and  act  like  a  Madonna. 
Was  his  object  "The  Psalm  of  an  Autumn  Leaf"? 
or  "The  Treasures  of  the  Snow"?  These  common- 
place objects  became  transformed  and  glorified  by  the 
illumination  of  his  magic  words.  The  very  subjects 
upon  which  he  chose  to  speak  reveal  the  great  and 
tender  heart  of  the  man.  "  Our  Debt  to  the  Chil- 
dren," "  Fathers  and  Sons,"  "  The  Joy  of  Harvest," 
"  The  Morning  Song  of  Creation,"  "  The  Overplus 
of  Blossom."  What  a  man  was  this!  His  whole 
message  was  one  of  beauty  and  song  and  joy  and  serv- 
ice. Robert  Collyer  was  a  great  man  because  he  had 
a  great  heart.  His  whole  message  to  humanity  is  com- 
passed in  one  sentence,  "  The  greatest  of  these  is  love." 
Love  rang  true  in  his  words,  shone  in  his  face,  mellowed 
his  voice  and  exhaled  from  his  personality.  And  be- 
cause this  word  Love  is  bigger  than  all  sects  and  greater 
than  all  creeds,  we  who  were  not  of  his  especial  fellow- 
ship still  claim  him  for  our  own.     He  belongs  to  us  all 


24  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

by  virtue  of  the  love  he  bore  us  and  the  sacred  affection 
and  reverence  in  which  we  all  held  him.  The  whole 
world  is  a  better  place  because  he  has  lived  in  it  and  the 
heaven  to  which  he  has  gone  has  become  surpassingly 
attractive  because  he  has  entered  through  the  gate  into 
the  city. 

VIOLIiN  SOLO  — HANDEL'S  "LARGO" 

BY    LUDWIG   MARUM 

ADDRESS  * 

BY  JOHN  HAYNES  HOLMES 

I  AM  very  much  afraid  that  I  shall  not  be  able  to  say 
what  I  want  to  say  this  morning,  but  I  know  that  even 
though  I  fail  completely  I  can  trust  you  to  understand 
and  to  forgive  me.  During  a  good  part  of  yesterday 
I  sat  alone,  through  long,  long  hours,  trying  to  write 
out  my  thoughts  in  some  clear  and  definite  form,  so  that 
I  should  be  sure  to  say  just  the  right  thing;  but  when 
the  day  had  gone,  I  found  that  the  sheet  of  paper,  which 
I  had  placed  before  me  on  my  desk,  was  still  a  blank 
—  it  contained  not  a  single  word.  And  so  I  must  do 
the  best  I  can  without  manuscript  or  notes. 

I  came  to  this  city  five  and  a  half  years  ago,  and 
then  met  Robert  Collyer  for  the  first  time  in  my  life. 
I  shall  never  forget  how,  after  I  had  been  called  to  this 
pulpit,  he  took  me  in  his  great  arms,  wished  me  God- 
speed on  the  road  on  which.  I  had  perhaps  all  too 
rashly  set  my  feet,  and  pledged  to  me  his  constant  and 
loyal  support  so  long  as  he  should  live  and  share  with 

♦Recorded    stenographically    during    delivery,    unknown    to    Mr. 
Holmes,  and  later  revised  by  him. 


THE  FUNERAL  SERVICE  25 

me  the  ministry  of  this  church.  Five  years  and  more 
have  passed  away  since  that  moment,  and  here  and  now, 
In  the  sight  of  God  and  of  this  great  company  of  his 
devoted  friends,  I  desire  to  bear  loving  testimony  to 
the  fact  that  through  all  this  time  he  faithfully  kept 
that  promise.  Never  did  he  pass  one  word  of  criticism 
upon  what  I  believe  must  have  often  sorely  tried  him. 
Never  once  did  he  falter  In  his  affection  and  support, 
although  I  fear  that  he  must  have  been  tempted  many 
times.  It  has  been  my  highest  joy  during  all  these  years 
to  see  the  smile  upon  his  lips,  when  I  did  or  said  a  thing 
which  pleased  him;  and  many  times  have  I  wept  bitter 
tears  at  the  thought  that,  through  some  mistake  of  word 
or  action,  I  might  have  disappointed  and  pained  him. 
Never  once,  however,  did  I  see  the  look  of  reproach 
in  his  eyes,  nor  catch  a  word  of  reproof  from  his  lips. 
It  is  not  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  for  a  man  past 
his  eightieth  year  to  see  his  place  usurped  by  one  who 
Is  scarcely  more  than  a  youngster!  But  Dr.  Collyer 
did  not  seem  to  find  It  hard.  During  all  this  time  It 
was  ever  his  will  that  my  will  should  be  his.  He  never 
gave  advice  save  when  It  was  sought,  never  made  a 
suggestion  unless  It  was  asked  for,  and  as  I  have  good 
reason  to  know,  never  tolerated  the  slightest  word  of 
criticism  of  his  colleague.  So,  through  his  great  good 
will  and  abounding  kindness,  was  my  task  made  easy. 
The  most  sacred  memory  of  my  life  will  ever  be  these 
five  or  six  years  in  which  I  have  been  Intimately  asso- 
ciated with  this  man  as  minister  of  the  Church  of  the 
Messiah.  I  have  grown  to  love  him  as  I  have  loved 
no  other  man  in  all  my  experience.  As  I  stand  before 
you  now  and  think  of  these  years  passed  In  closest 
association  with  him  In  his  radiantly  beautiful  old  age, 


26  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

I  know  that  you  will  not  wonder  that  I  cannot  find 
words  to  say  what  I  want  to  say. 

My  relations  with  Robert  CoUyer  have  been  different 
from  those  of  any  other  living  person.  My  acquaint- 
ance was  limited  to  five  years,  and  these  the  last  years 
of  his  life.  Such  years  are  not  always  the  pleasantest 
years.  Not  always  does  the  spirit  remain  sweet,  and 
with  increasing  age  grow  sweeter.  When  Dr.  Collyer's 
strength  began  to  break,  however,  his  spirit  seemed  to 
grow  younger  and  gentler  than  ever,  so  that  with  him 
his  old  age  was,  perhaps,  the  best  period  of  his  entire 
life.  His  was  the  most  wonderful  old  age,  it  seems 
to  me,  that  can  possibly  be  conceived  —  blest  with  per- 
fect serenity,  unending  patience,  and  a  fatherly  love  for 
every  human  soul.  Even  in  his  last  hours  of  weak- 
ness and  discomfort,  there  was  no  word  or  sign  of 
complaint.  I  think  of  a  day,  some  time  ago,  when  I 
stood  upon  the  seashore  as  the  sun  was  sinking  into 
the  west.  The  ocean  was  as  quiet  as  though  it  were 
made  of  glass;  you  could  scarcely  hear  even  the  lapping 
of  the  waves  upon  the  sand.  Above  my  head  some 
birds  were  winging  their  flight  homeward  to  their  nests 
for  the  night's  repose.  The  only  sound  was  a  distant 
call  now  and  then  —  and  I  actually  stood  still  that  even 
the  sound  of  my  footfall  upon  the  beach  might  not 
disturb  the  sacred  silence  of  the  scene.  In  the  west 
the  sun  was  disappearing  beneath  the  horizon,  and  all 
the  heavens  were  flooded  with  the  glory  of  its  fading 
light. —  So  was  it  with  Dr.  Collyer  as  he  went  to  his 
rest.  His  last  hours,  like  his  many  years,  were  full 
of  beauty,  quiet,  and  infinite  peace. 

There  was  something  wonderfully  romantic  about 
Dr.   Collyer's  life,   especially  to  one  like  myself  who 


THE  FUNERAL  SERVICE  27 

never  saw  him  save  when  his  active  career  was  finished. 
The  blacksmith.,  the  missionary  in  Chicago,  the  agent 
of  the  Sanitary  Commission,  the  great  preacher  —  all 
these  are  to  me  like  figures  in  a  legend,  or  characters 
of  history.  I  never  heard  the  voice  that  wooed  the 
ears  of  multitudes  —  I  never  saw  the  unbent  giant  form 
which  was  the  admiration  of  men  —  I  never  felt  that 
marvelous  personal  magnetism  that  won  the  hearts 
of  his  contemporaries.  All  this,  to  me,  is  "  as  a  tale 
that  is  told."  And  yet,  strangely  enough,  I  never  felt 
it  necessary  to  inquire  how  these  things  could  be,  as  we 
so  often  do  when  old  age  has  broken  the  power  of 
a  life.  Just  to  look  upon  this  man's  wonderful  face, 
just  to  see  his  smile,  just  to  behold  the  quiet  beauty  of 
his  closing  years,  was  to  see  the  whole  story  of  his 
romantic  career  fully  explained.  The  secret  of  his 
power,  it  seems  to  me,  can  all  be  summed  up  in  three 
very  simple  statements. 

First,  Robert  Collyer  had  all  the  simplicity  of  a  little 
child.  He  was  perfectly  natural,  spontaneous,  normal. 
He  was  never  spoiled  by  the  artificialities  of  life  or 
captivated  by  the  frills  and  fancies  of  the  world  in 
which  he  lived.  He  was  oblivious  to  all  that  was  un- 
real. Nothing  could  be  more  delightful  than  the  per- 
fectly frank  delight  with  which  he  received  the  many 
honors  which  were  showered  upon  him.  Nothing 
could  be  more  charming  than  the  unconventional  way 
he  had  of  doing  things.  You  will  remember  with  what 
naive  unconsciousness  he  would  always  stumble  over 
that  formidable  word  "  Emeritus,"  which  in  recent 
years  had  been  added  to  his  title  of  "  Pastor."  His 
religion  was  never  anything  else  but  the  religion  of  a 
child.     His  spiritual  beliefs  were   as   simple   and  un- 


28  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

questioning  and  genuine  as  those  received  by  a  child 
at  its  mother's  knee.  God  the  Father  was  as  real  to 
him  as  the  stars  upon  which  he  looked  at  night.  Im- 
mortality was  to  him  as  certain  a  thing  as  the  coming 
of  to-morrow  morning.  Nothing  could  be  more  sub- 
lime than  his  unfailing  trust  in  the  goodness  of  the 
world.  Never  did  he  reason  about  these  fundamental 
verities.  He  did  not  know  what  speculation  was.  I 
sometimes  think  that  I  never  troubled  him  so  much  as 
when  I  stood  here  in  his  pulpit  and  actually  argued 
about  God  and  the  future  life.  "  Except  ye  become  as 
a  little  child,"  said  Jesus,  "  ye  can  in  no  wise  enter  into 
the  Kingdom  of  Heaven."  This  is  all  the  assurance 
that  we  need  as  to  the  destiny  of  this  great  soul. 

In  the  second  place.  Dr.  Collyer  had  not  merely  the 
simplicity  of  a  child,  but  also  the  tenderness  of  a  woman. 
This  great  hand,  which  could  weld  the  heated  iron  on 
the  anvil,  could  touch  the  fevered  brow  of  illness  with 
infinite  gentleness  and  quiet.  He  could  enter  the  home 
of  death,  and  his  very  presence  would  bring  comfort 
and  strength  to  stricken  hearts.  What  sympathy  was 
in  his  word  and  what  tenderness  in  his  smile !  It  is 
not  surprising  that  he  went  to  the  front  during  the  Civil 
War  as  an  army  nursie,  and  served  through  many  weary 
weeks  in  the  hospital  and  on  the  battle  field  as  a  very 
angel  of  mercy.  For  all  the  pains  of  men  he  had  an 
infinite  pity,  and  the  magnetism  of  his  presence  was  as 
a  soothing  balm  to  all  who  suffered.  Seldom,  in  any 
man,  do  we  find  such  tenderness  as  there  was  in  Dr. 
Collyer's  soul. 

And  lastly,  he  had  all  the  power  and  virility  of  a 
man.  I  believe  that  we  shall  not  truly  understand  him 
unless  we  see  how  mighty  was  his  strength  and  how 


THE  FUNERAL  SERVICE  29 

magnificent  his  courage.  It  was  a  strong  man  who 
stood  patiently  day  after  day  at  the  anvil  —  a  strong 
man,  who  left  the  mother-land  behind  him  and  came 
to  this  new  world  where  there  was  no  friend  to  greet 
and  help  him  —  a  strong  man,  who  left  the  mother- 
church  and  went  out  alone  into  the  world  of  a  new 
spiritual  experience  not  knowing  whither  he  went  —  a 
strong  man,  who,  after  the  terrible  fire  had  swept  over 
the  city  of  Chicago,  stood  on  the  following  Sunday 
morning  on  the  ashes  of  his  ruined  church,  undaunted 
and  undismayed,  and  exhorted  the  people  to  trust  in 
God  and  hope  still  in  the  mercy  of  his  providence.  Dr. 
Collyer  was  "  a  man"  in  every  fiber  of  his  being  — 
a  giant  in  spirit  as  well  as  in  physical  stature.  There 
could  be  no  greater  mistake  than  to  imagine  that,  in  his 
childlike  simplicity  and  womanly  tenderness,  there  was 
lost  any  of  the  strength  of  manhood. 

These  three.  It  seems  to  me,  are  the  ingredients  that 
went  into  the  making  of  Robert  Collyer  —  the  simplic- 
ity of  a  child,  the  tenderness  of  a  woman,  and  the 
strength  of  a  man.  But  why  should  we  seek  to  analyze 
him?  Can  we  not  sum  it  all  up  in  the  simple  statement 
that  he  was  supremely  human  —  so  human,  that  all 
phases  of  character  seemed  to  be  incarnate  in  his  single 
soul?  It  was  this  great  fact  which  so  impressed  Dr. 
Collyer's  dear  friend,  John  White  Chadwick,  and  in- 
spired him  to  say  in  his  poem  dedicated  to  Robert  Coll- 
yer: 

"  You  are  so  human ;  here's  the  central  fact 
Of  which  your  life  and  speech  are  all  compact ; 
All  things  that  touch  the  simple  common  heart  — 
These  have  you  chosen  —  these,  the  better  part ! 
You  are  so  human ;  feeling,  thought  and  act." 


30  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

And  now  he  is  dead !  No,  I  have  no  right  to  use 
this  word,  for  Robert  CoUyer  did  not  believe  in  death. 
Let  us  rather  say  that  he  has  gone.  We  are  doing 
him  the  poorest  service,  I  take  it,  when  we  weep  over 
him  and  lament  his  passing.  How  can  we  complain 
at  such  an  hour  as  this?  —  Only  a  few  days  ago,  when 
I  chanced  to  be  late  coming  home,  my  little  boy  ran  to 
me  and  said:  "Father,  I  want  to  go  to  bed."  All 
day  long  he  had  been  busy  at  his  games  and  his  little 
tasks,  and  now  he  was  tired  and  ready  for  sleep.  So 
we  put  him  to  bed;  and,  laying  his  head  upon  the  pil- 
low, he  gave  that  great  sigh  of  comfort  which  is  so 
characteristic  of  a  child  when  the  bed  is  welcome,  and 
was  instantly  fast  asleep,  with  that  wonderful  smile 
playing  over  his  lips  which  tells  that  the  little  chap  is 
dreaming  of  the  joy  of  the  new  day  that  is  to  come 
with  the  morrow.  So  it  was  with  Robert  CoUyer. 
His  tasks  were  all  done  long  since,  and  many  times 
before  he  was  stricken  he  confessed  that  he  wanted  to 
go  to  sleep.  It  did  not  surprise  those  of  us  who 
watched  by  his  bedside  during  the  long  hours  of  that 
last  day,  to  see  a  wonderful  smile  dawn  upon  his  face 
as  life  vanished,  a  witness  that  he  had  met  the  perfect 
joy  of  the  great  new  day  beyond.  So  I  believe  that  we 
should  lay  him  in  his  grave  trustingly,  tenderly,  cheer- 
fully, without  one  word  of  complaint,  knowing  that  he 
has  truly  passed  from  life  to  life  and  is  still  journeying 
on,  a  radiant  spirit  there  as  here. 


THE  FUNERAL  SERVICE  31 

PRAYER 

BY  JOHN  HAYNES  HOLMES 

Almighty  God,  our  heavenly  Father,  thou  art  our 
guide  and  stay  in  the  hour  of  death  even  as  In  the 
years  of  life.  Therefore  do  we  turn  to  thee,  at  this 
solemn  and  sacred  moment,  to  seek  from  thee  the  help 
and  strength  without  which  we  are  as  nothing. 

We  bless  thee,  O  God,  for  thy  manifold  benefits  — 
for  the  loving-kindness  which  thou  hast  bestowed  upon 
the  world  —  for  the  salvation  which  thou  hast  given 
unto  our  souls  through  the  saints  and  apostles  of  thy 
spirit  who  have  lived  and  died  in  all  ages  to  the  glory 
of  thy  holy  name.  We  bless  thee  that  thou  hast  ever 
spoken  unto  men  through  the  lives  of  thy  servants 
which  have  been  since  the  world  began;  and  especially 
that  thou  hast  spoken  unto  us  in  our  time  through  the 
life  of  this  man,  who  has  passed  from  our  presence  into 
thine;  and  that  thou  wilt  ever  speak  unto  us  through 
the  lovely  memories  that  abide  within  our  hearts.  We 
thank  thee  that  we  have  known  this  man  as  a  teacher 
and  a  friend.  We  thank  thee  that  it  has  been  our  privi- 
lege to  hear  him  tell  of  thy  Truth  and  Love,  and  to  lis- 
ten to  his  voice  as  it  has  been  lifted  unto  thee  in  praise 
and  prayer.  We  thank  thee  that,  in  his  smile,  we  have 
seen  thy  goodness  —  in  his  tears,  thy  tender  mercies  — 
and  in  the  sweetness  and  light  of  his  great  soul,  the 
beauty  of  thy  holiness.  We  thank  thee  that  he  hast 
blessed  us  with  his  presence,  taught  us  by  his  wisdom, 
strengthened  us  by  his  faith,  consoled  us  by  his  pity. 
Yea,  we  thank  thee  that  we  have  known  him,  and  so 
long  as  we  shall  live  can  cherish  within  our  hearts,  for 


32  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

the  quickening  of  our  fainting  spirits,  the  memory  of 
his  days. 

We  pray  thee,  our  Father,  that  thy  presence  may 
be  manifest  to  those  who  are  mourning  at  this  hour 
the  loss  of  their  jpeloved.  Comfort  them,  we  beseech 
thee,  with  the  comfort  wherewith  he  comforted  all 
those  whom  he  found  stricken  and  forlorn.  And 
unto  all  of  us,  our  Father,  we  pray  that  thou  wilt  grant 
the  sweet  consolations  of  thy  blessing,  that  we  may 
know  that  neither  death  nor  life,  nor  things  present 
nor  things  to  come,  can  ev^er  separate  us  from  thy  per- 
fect love. 

Our  Father,  who  art  in  heaven,  hallowed  be  thy 
name.  Thy  kingdom  come,  thy  will  be  done  on  earth, 
as  it  is  in  heaven.  Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread. 
And  forgive  us  our  trespasses  as  we  forgive  those  who 
trespass  against  us.  And  lead  us  not  into  temptation; 
but  deliver  us  from  evil;  for  thine  is  the  kingdom,  and 
the  power,  and  the  glory,  forever  and  ever, 

Amen. 

HYMN 

It  singeth  low  in  every  heart, 

We  hear  it  each  and  all, — 
A  song  of  those  who  answer  not, 

However  we  may  call. 
They  throng  the  silence  of  the  breast; 

We  see  them  as  of  yore, — 
The  kind,  the  true,  the  brave,  the  sweet, 

Who  walk  with  us  no  more. 

Tis  hard  to  take  the  burden  up, 
When  these  have  laid  it  down: 


THE  FUNERAL  SERVICE  33 

They  brightened  all  the  joy  of  life, 

They  softened  every  frown. 
But,  oh!  'tis  good  to  think  of  them 

When  we  are  troubled  sore; 
Thanks  be  to  God  that  such  have  been. 

Although  they  are  no  more! 

More  homelike  seems  the  vast  unknown. 

Since  they  have  entered  there; 
To  follow  them  were  not  so  hard, 

Wherever  they  may  fare. 
They  cannot  be  where  God  is  not. 

On  any  sea  or  shore; 
Whate'er  betides,  thy  love  abides, 

Our  God  for  evermore! 


BENEDICTION 

BY  JOHN   HAYNES   HOLMES 

And  now  may  the  Lord  bless  us;  the  Lord  make  his 
face  to  shine  upon  us,  and  be  gracious  unto  us;  the 
Lord  lift  up  the  light  of  his  countenance  upon  us,  and 
give  us  joy,  and  peace,  and  love  —  this  day  and  forever 
more.     Amen ! 


THE  MEMORIAL  SERMON 

BY   JOHN    HAYNES    HOLMES 

Delivered  at  the  Memorial  Service  at  the  Church  of 
the  Messiah,  New  York,  on  December  8,   19 12. 

ROBERT  COLLYER,  SAINT  AND  SEER 

{He)  walked  with  God;  and  he  was  not,  for  God 
took  him. — Gen.  v.  2^. 

We  are  gathered  here  this  morning  —  and  It  does  my 
heart  good,  as  I  know  It  would  have  done  Dr.  Collyer's 
heart  good,  to  see  so  many  of  us  —  to  offer  up  our 
tribute  of  reverence  and  love  for  that  great  and  good 
man,  who  for  more  than  thirty-three  years  of  sunshine 
and  of  shadow,  was  the  loyal  and  devoted  minister  of 
this  church.  It  Is  altogether  fitting,  as  it  so  happens, 
that  we  should  hold  such  a  memorial  service  as  this  on 
this  particular  day;  for  it  was  just  exactly  eighty-nine 
years  ago  to-day  *  that  Robert  Collyer  was  born,  far 
across  the  seas.  In  the  little  town  of  Keighley,  In  Eng- 
land. 

His  family  was  not  very  much  to  boast  of.  In  a 
worldly  sense,  on  either  side  of  the  house.  The  early 
twenties,  we  must  remember,  were  the  days  when 
power-machinery  was  for  the  first  time  being  developed 
on  a  wide  scale,  and  factories  were  being  built  on  every 

•This    sermon    was    preached    on    the    morning    of    Dr.    Collyer's 
eighty-ninth  birthday,  Dec.  8,  1912. 

35 


26  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

available  site  throughout  the  length  and  breadth-  of  the 
British  Isles.  This  resulted  in  a  great  and  immediate 
demand  for  men  and  women,  and  especially  children, 
to  run  the  wonderful  new  machines  in  the  mills;  and 
nowhere,  in  Yorkshire  or  anywhere  else,  did  the  local 
supply  of  help  begin  to  satisfy  the  needs  of  the  situa- 
tion. Therefore  the  owners  of  the  factories  by  per- 
mission of  the  government,  went  scouring  through  the 
orphan  asylums  of  England  for  boys  and  girls,  and 
these  they  were  allowed  to  take  and  keep  as  appren- 
tices—  the  boys  until  they  were  twenty-one  years  of 
age  and  the  girls  until  they  were  eighteen  —  on  con- 
dition that  they  provide  them  with  food  and  shelter, 
instruct  them  in  the  three  R's,  and  teach  the  boys  a 
trade,  by  which  they  could  support  themselves  when 
they  were  released.  Dr.  Collyer's  father  was  an  or- 
phan lad  who  was  snatched  in  this  way  out  of  an  asy- 
lum in  the  south  of  England,  and  set  to  work  in  a 
factory  in  the  town  of  Fewston;  and  his  mother  was 
an  orphan  girl  from  Norwich,  who  was  brought  north 
in  the  same  year  and  set  to  work  in  the  same  factory. 
Here  they  grew  up  side  by  side,  and  "  it  came  to  pass 
in  due  time  that  they  fell  in  love  with  each  other."  At 
last,  on  a  bitter  winter's  day  in  January,  1823,  when 
the  snow  lay  so  heavy  upon  the  ground  that  they  had 
to  walk  a  part  of  the  way  on  the  top  of  the  stone  walls, 
the  lad  and  the  lassie  trudged  two  miles  out  into  the 
country  and  were  married  by  the  good  minister  of  the 
parish  church.  In  the  case  neither  of  his  father  nor 
his  mother  was  Dr.  Collyer  able  to  trace  his  family 
line  beyond  the  grandfather,  and  so,  as  he  put  It  in  his 
charming  autobiography,  "  we  have  no  family  tree  to 
speak  of,  only  this  low  bush." 


THE  MEMORIAL  SERMON  37 

Yet  it  was  with  a  right  good-will,  and  with  great  se- 
riousness, too,  that  Dr.  Collyer  declared,  in  an  address 
delivered  not  so  long  ago  in  England,  that  he  "  was 
well  born."  He  was  right;  for  the  quality  of  a  man's 
birth,  thank  God!  does  not  depend  upon  the  wealth  or 
the  social  standing  of  his  forebears,  but  upon  the  blood 
which  flows  in  their  veins  and  the  souls  which  are  resi- 
dent in  their  mortal  flesh.  Dr.  Collyer's  father  was 
an  active,  able.  God-fearing  man  —  a  blacksmith  by 
trade,  of  whom  it  was  said  through  all  the  countryside 
that,  if  there  was  anything  to  be  done  with  iron,  he  was 
the  man  to  do  it.  He  had  very  little  education,  and 
therefore  stumbled  over  the  big  words  in  the  Bible  and 
the  Psalm-book;  but  he  was  a  teacher  in  the  Sunday- 
school  all  the  same,  and  just  the  man  to  stand  up  and 
lead  the  hymns.  He  was  gentle,  too,  with  his  chil- 
dren, and  this  in  a  day  when  roughness  and  even  bru- 
tality were  common  enough.  "  He  never  thrashed  me 
but  once,"  said  Dr.  Collyer,  in  after  years,  "  and  that 
was  for  striking  my  sister;  and  then  he  cried  and 
begged  my  pardon." 

His  mother,  as  seems  to  be  the  case  with  all  great 
men,  was  a  wonderful  woman.  "  My  mother,"  said 
Dr.  Collyer,  "  was  a  woman  of  such,  a  faculty,  though 
she  could  hardly  read  or  write,  that  I  believe,  if  she 
had  been  ordered  to  take  charge  of  a  70-gun  ship  and 
carry  it  through  a  battle,  she  would  have  done  it.  She 
had  in  her,  also,  wells  of  poesy,  and  laughter  so  shak- 
ing that  the  tears  would  stream  down  her  face  —  and 
deep  abiding  tenderness  like  that  of  the  saints."  This 
testimony  was  impressively  confirmed  in  later  years  by 
Dr.  Collyer's  dear  friend  and  colleague,  Henry  W. 
Bellows,  for  many  years  minister  of  All  Souls'  Church 


38  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

In  this  city,  who,  after  a  return  from  a  visit  to  Eng- 
land, met  Dr.  Collyer  on  the  street,  and,  stopping  him, 
said  abruptly:  "Ah,  Robert,  now  I  know  where  you 
get  your  outfit.      I  saw  your  mother  in  Leeds." 

"  Well  born  "  he  most  certainly  was,  and,  he  might 
have  added,  well  reared  also !  The  home  was  poor 
enough,  to  be  sure, —  the  father  earned  only  $4.50  per 
week,  even  when  business  was  at  its  best, —  but  it  was 
clean  and  cozy,  and  illumined  by  the  light  and  warmed 
by  the  unfailing  hearth-fires  of  human  love.  The 
house  itself  was  a  two-room  cottage,  with  a  low  attic 
or  loft  overhead,  and  "  the  windows  looking  right  into 
the  sun's  eye  over  the  valley  and  westward  to  the 
moors."  In  front  of  the  building  was  a  stretch  of 
greensward,  with  a  great  rose-bush  in  the  center,  which 
was  bearing  a  wealth  of  blossoms  only  a  few  summers 
ago,  and  "  a  plum-tree  that  gave  me  a  good  deal  of 
trouble  in  those  days,"  says  the  Doctor,  in  his  "  Mem- 
ories," "  because  the  fruit  in  the  summer  never  began 
to  make  good  the  promise  of  the  blossom  in  the 
spring." 

Here  the  boy  raced  and  romped  as  a  little  lad  over 
the  wide-stretching  moors;  ate  his  simple  fare  of 
skimmed  milk,  oat-cake,  potatoes  and  salt,  with  a  sip 
of  cambric  tea  on  the  Sunday;  and  had  his  sleep  In  the 
loft  overhead  amid  the  silences  of  the  long,  long  win- 
ter nights.  Here,  in  these  very  early  years  In  the 
home,  he  received  all  the  education  he  ever  had, —  a 
few  months  at  a  dame's  school  In  the  town,  a  few 
months  more  at  a  master's  school  a  half  mile  away,  and 
then  a  little  while  with  a  Master  Hardle  two  miles 
over  the  moor,  who.  Dr.  Collyer  testifies,  "  was  a  good 
teacher."     This  was   all  the   education   that  he   ever 


THE  MEMORIAL  SERMON  39 

obtained,  excepting  a  winter  or  two  of  night  school 
later  on;  but  It  was  enough  to  open  his  heart  to  that 
love  of  books  which  remained,  throughout  all  his  many 
years,  a  perpetual  source  of  Inspiration  and  delight. 
Dr.  Collyer  was  a  lover  of  books.  If  ever  there  was 
one;  and  It  was  out  of  the  books  of  all  kinds  and  de- 
scriptions which  he  devoured  In  his  youth  that  he  ob- 
tained all  the  preparation  he  ever  had  for  the  notable 
ministry  which  for  more  than  fifty  years  was  the  ad- 
miration and  wonder  of  men.  There  Is  a  delightful 
story,  which  Dr.  Collyer  always  loved  to  tell,  which 
illustrates  perfectly  his  early  predilection  for  reading. 
One  happy  day,  "  some  good  soul  "  had  given  the  lit- 
tle boy  "  a  big  George  the  Third  penny,"  and  he  must 
needs  go  and  spend  it  forthwith  for  a  stick  of  candy 
at  the  store.  There  the  sticks  were,  in  a  beautiful 
glass  jar  In  the  window;  but  right  close  to  the  jar,  as 
he  now  discovered,  was  a  tiny  book,  with  the  fasci- 
nating Inscription,  "  The  History  of  Whittington  and 
his  Cat,  William  Walker,  Printer.  Price,  One 
Penny."  Instantly  the  choice  was  made,  and  it  was 
not  the  candy  for  which  the  big  penny  was  exchanged ! 
"  I  gave  up  the  candy,"  he  tells  us,  "  and  bought  the 
book,  ,  .  .  and  in  that  purchase  lay  the  spark  of  a 
fire  which  has  not  yet  gone  down  to  white  ashes, —  the 
passion,  which  grew  with  my  growth,  to  read  all  the 
books  In  my  early  years  I  could  lay  my  hands  on."  In 
the  home  there  was  a  shelf  of  books, —  not  a  "  five- 
foot  shelf,"  unfortunately,  but  It  carried  such  precious 
volumes  as  "  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  "  Robinson  Crusoe," 
Goldsmith's  "  England,"  and  a  great  Bible  illustrated 
with  splendid  pictures.  Then  the  father  was  an  ob- 
serving man,  who  appreciated  his  son's  love  of  reading, 


40  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

and  every  now  and  then  managed  to  borrow  a  volume 
or  two  for  the  boy;  and  memorable  were  the  days 
when  in  this  way  the  poems  of  Burns  and  the  dramas 
of  Shakespeare  first  came  into  his  hands.  Later  on, 
when  the  lad  had  become  a  worker  at  the  forge,  he  met 
dear  John  Dobson,  whose  name  never  came  from  his 
lips  in  later  years  without  being  caressed  with  lingering 
affection.  This  man  earned  a  good  wage,  and,  being 
a  bachelor,  had  no  family  cares,  and  for  many  years 
he  made  it  his  pride  and  joy  to  buy  books,  not  for  him- 
self, but  for  the  eager  young  man  who  must  ever  have 
a  printed  page  before  his  eyes.  And  so  he  read, — 
read  by  the  fading  sunlight  on  the  moors;  read,  as 
Abraham  Lincoln  used  to  read,  by  the  light  of  the 
hearth-fire  in  the  winter  nights;  read  as  he  walked  to 
his  work  in  the  early  morning  and  again  as  he  trudged 
homewards  in  the  late  evening;  read  as  he  blew  his  bel- 
lows in  the  smithy;  read,  as  he  tells  us,  even  when  he 
went  a-courting.  "  And  If  my  sweetheart  had  not 
been  the  best  lassie  in  all  the  world  for  me,  as  well  as  the 
bonniest,  she  would  hav^e  given  me  the  mitten,  and 
served  me  right." 

At  eight  years  of  age  there  came  the  one  sad  and 
painful  period  of  his  life,  and  it  lasted  for  no  less  than 
six  years,  or  until  he  was  fourteen  years  of  age.  This 
was  the  time  when,  owing  to  his  father's  small  earn- 
ings and  the  Increasing  family,  he  was  obliged  to  go 
into  the  mills  and  w^ork  for  his  living.  He  has  left  us 
a  pitiful  picture  of  this  experience  as  a  child-laborer. 
The  hours  were  from  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  until 
eight  o'clock  In  the  evening, —  on  Saturday,  from  six 
to  six, —  with  an  hour  off  each  day  at  noon  for  dinner. 
Still  worse,  the  little  children  were  never  allowed  to 


THE  MEMORIAL  SERMON  41 

sit  down  at  their  work,  and,  if  they  were  caught  by 
the  overseer  resting  themselves  for  a  moment  on  some 
stray  box  or  barrel,  they  were  speedily  brought  to 
their  feet  by  the  stinging  lash  of  a  heavy  leathern  strap 
across  their  shoulders.  "  The  result  of  this  was  that 
the  weaker  children  were  so  crippled  that  the  memory 
of  their  crooked  limbs  still  casts  a  sinister  light  for  me 
on  the  Scripture,  '  The  Lord  regardeth  not  the  legs  of 
a  man.'  I  was  tired  beyond  all  telling,"  he  con- 
tinues, "  and  thought  the  bell  would  never  ring  to  let 
us  out  and  home  at  last  and  to  bed.  And  it  seemed  as 
if  I  had  only  just  got  to  sleep  when  it  rang  again  to  call 
me  to  work."  One  day,  when  I  chanced  to  ask  him  if 
he  would  like  to  live  his  life  all  over  again,  he  instantly 
replied,  with  great  good  cheer,  that  he  would.  Then 
his  face  darkened  for  a  moment,  and  he  said:  "  But 
not  the  years  in  the  mill.  I  wouldn't  live  those  over 
again,  not  for  all  the  blessings  that  might  be  given  me 
in  compensation." 

At  fourteen  years  of  age  he  was  rescued  from  this 
slavery  by  the  necessity  of  learning  a  trade.  "  There 
was  one  article  in  our  home  creed  that  would  admit  of 
no  doubt  or  denial:  the  boys  must  learn  some  craft 
better  than  those  we  were  taught  in  the  factory.  If  I 
stayed  on  in  the  factory,  this  would  be  a  step  down 
from  the  rank  my  father  had  attained  as  a  smith." 
And  so  there  came  the  glad  day  when  he  was  appren- 
ticed to  a  blacksmith  in  the  town  of  Ilkley,  ten  miles 
across  the  moors, —  the  very  man,  as  it  chanced,  who 
had  taught  his  father  the  trade  many  years  before. 
Here  he  remained  during  the  next  twelve  years  of  his 
life,  "  sitting  by  the  anvil,  and  considering  the  un- 
wrought   iron," — this  being   "the   utmost   limit   then 


42  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

and  for  many  years  after,"  he  tells  us,  "  of  [his]  ambi- 
tion." He  declares  that  he  was  never  much  of  a 
worker, —  certainly  no  such  skilled  artisan  as  his  father, 
—  for  his  heart  was  far  more  in  his  books  than  in  his 
hammer.  But  he  must  have  been  something  more 
than  an  ordinary  blacksmith;  for,  when  his  master  died, 
he  himself  became  the  master  of  the  forge,  and  was 
soon  earning  the  munificent  sum  of  a  pound  a  week. 
This  was  enough  to  maintain  a  home  and  to  keep  the 
fire  burning  on  the  hearth.  So  did  the  day  come  thus 
early  when  he  claimed  the  lassie  who  had  won  his  loyal 
heart  for  her  own,  and,  all  youthful  as  he  was,  made 
her  his  wife. 

Then  came  the  first  great  sorrow  of  Dr.  Collyer's 
life,  for  a  year  and  a  half  had  scarcely  gone  when  the 
dear  wife  was  laid  tenderly  away  in  the  graveyard 
upon  the  hill,  with  her  babe  upon  her  breast;  and  the 
young  husband  and  father  found  himself  alone  and 
desolate  in  an  empty  home.  For  the  first  time  in  his 
experience  the  beauty  seemed  to  go  out  of  the  world 
and  the  joy  of  living  to  vanish  from  his  heart.  For 
the  first  time  his  hammer  rang  dull  and  lifeless  on  the 
anvil.  For  the  first  time  his  beloved  books  failed  to 
hold  his  mind  and  stir  the  deep  places  of  his  soul. 
For  the  first  time  his  friends  were  shut  out  of  his  life, 
and  even  his  "  good  helper,"  John  Dobson,  not  per- 
mitted to  know  the  secrets  of  his  heart.  "  I  did  not 
consult  with  flesh  and  blood,"  he  writes,  in  his  autobi- 
ography. "  The  secret  lay  between  God  and  my  own 
soul,  and  in  God  I  must  find  help." 

It  was  this  experience  which  first  turned  his  mature 
thoughts  seriously  toward  religion.  He  found  himself 
thinking,  in  his  loneliness  and  sorrow,  of  the  Sunday- 


THE  MEMORIAL  SERMON  43 

school  on  the  hill  where  he  had  gone  as  a  lad,  of  the 
hymns  that  his  father  had  sung,  and  of  the  Bible  on 
the  bookshelf  at  home.  One  day,  almost  by  chance,  he 
went  to  a  meeting  of  Methodists,  his  "  neighbors  and 
friends,"  in  a  little  chapel  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town, 
and  there  was  moved  to  tell  them  "  in  not  many  words 
how  it  was  with  [him]."  Before  long,  under  the 
stress  of  his  emotion,  he  had  undergone  the  great  ex- 
perience of  conversion,  and  become  a  full-fledged  mem- 
ber of  the  Methodist  Church. 

With  this  there  came  the  one  great  and  epoch-mak- 
ing discovery  of  his  life;  namely,  that  he  was  one  who 
was  dowered  with  the  divine  gift  of  speech.  Going, 
night  after  night,  to  the  prayer-meetings  of  the  Metho- 
dists, he  became  accustomed  to  standing  upon  his  feet 
and  bearing  witness  to  his  experience  of  religion.  Lit- 
tle by  little  he  discovered  that  his  good  neighbors  heard 
him  gladly,  and  were  deeply  moved  by  the  fervent 
words  which  came  pouring  forth  out  of  his  full  heart. 
Nor  was  he  the  only  one  that  made  this  discovery.  For 
the  people  themselves  were  soon  aware  that  they  were 
listening  to  a  prophet,  and  nothing  would  satisfy  them 
but  that  he  must  be  a  lay-preacher,  and  go  out  "  on  the 
Sunday  "  to  the  near-by  villages  and  talk  to  the  good 
friends  there  as  he  talked  to  the  neighbors  at  home. 
Every  Sunday,  therefore,  when  the  fires  were  banked 
in  the  forge  and  the  leather  apron  laid  aside,  the  stal- 
wart young  blacksmith  went  trudging  away  across  the 
moors  or  over  the  hills,  to  meet  some  little  group  of 
Methodists  and  speak  to  them  of  the  deep  things  of 
the  spirit.  Sometimes  h.e  talked  in  little  chapels;  more 
often  in  kitchens  or  tap-rooms  or  workshops;  once  in  a 
while,  like  the  great  John  Wesley  himself,  out  under 


44  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

the  open  skies,  by  some  cross  roads  or  in  some  harvest 
field.  Then  on  the  Monday  the  fires  were  blazing 
again  in  the  smithy,  and  the  hammer  was  ringing  with 
a  right  good-will  upon  the  anvil.  Gradually,  under 
the  influences  of  these  new  experiences,  the  young  man 
found  beauty  creeping  back  into  the  world,  and  peace 
and  joy  taking  their  wonted  places  in  his  heart.  His 
work  began  to  absorb  him  as  before.  His  books  were 
once  again  the  solace  and  inspiration  of  every  moment 
that  he  could  call  his  own.  His  friends  were  all  gath- 
ered again  into  his  embrace,  and  beloved  John  Dobson 
was  received  once  more  into  the  sacred  and  secret 
places  of  his  soul.  Sorrow  had  endured  for  a  night, 
but  joy  had  come  with  the  morning! 

Great  as  was  the  change,  however,  still  further 
change  began  to  seem  more  and  more  inevitable.  In 
spite  of  everything  that  could  be  said  or  done,  it  still 
remained  true  that  the  cruel  tragedy  of  his  loss  had 
interrupted  the  steady-flowing  current  of  his  life,  and 
in  1849  he  made  up  his  mind  to  emigrate  to  America. 
Up  to  this  time  he  had  not  been  forty  miles  away  from 
home,  but  the  thought  of  the  new  world  across  the  seas 
was  not  wholly  strange  to  his  mind.  His  father  and 
mother,  at  the  time  of  their  marriage,  had  fully  in- 
tended to  start  life  anew  in  the  United  States.  "  But 
the  panic  of  1823-24  had  struck  England  like  a  bolt 
from  the  blue  and  slain  their  hope  "  for  the  time  being. 
Then  the  little  lads  and  lassies  began  to  come  one  by 
one  into  the  home,  and  the  longed-for  flight  was  de- 
ferred from  year  to  year,  and  at  last  surrendered  alto- 
gether; but  many  a  time  had  Robert  heard  his  parents, 
as  they  sat  by  the  fireside  on  the  long  winter  evenings, 
talk  of  America  and  "  of  their  dead  and  dying  hope  " 


THE  MEMORIAL  SERMON  45 

of  going  there,  and  many  times,  therefore,  had  his 
imagination  been  fired  by  glowing  visions  of  this  great 
and  distant  land.  Furthermore,  "  one  of  his  father's 
shipmates  had  gone  there,  and  was  doing  well."  So 
what  more  natural,  when  the  thought  of  beginning  life 
all  over  again  at  last  took  full  possession  of  his  mind, 
than  that  his  hopes  and  fears  should  betake  themselves 
to  America,  and  beckon  him  to  cross  the  seas !  What- 
ever his  final  impulses  in  the  matter,  there  came  at  last 
a  fair  day  in  mid-April,  1850,  when  he  married  the  no- 
ble woman  who  was  his  wife  and  helpmeet  "  through 
more  than  forty  years,"  and  on  the  next  day  the  two 
set  sail  from  Liverpool,  in  the  steerage  of  the  old 
steamship  Roscius,  for  New  York,  where  they  "  landed 
in  four  weeks  to  the  day." 

It  gives  me  a  touch  of  sadness  to  think  of  these  two 
young  people,  the  lad  and  the  lassie,  as  Dr.  Collyer 
himself  would  put  it,  as  they  walked  up  Broadway  to- 
ward the  City  Hall,  hand  in  hand  together, —  the 
Yorkshire  blacksmith.,  with  his  great  frame  roughly 
clad,  I  must  believe,  in  his  rude  workingman's  garb, 
stumbling,  no  doubt,  under  a  heavy  burden  of  luggage, 
and  by  his  side,  the  little  wife,  ill,  half-frightened,  and 
unspeakably  lonely.  There  was  no  friend  to  give  them 
greeting;  no  familiar  spot  to  which  they  could  turn  for 
refuge;  no  opening,  so  far  as  they  could  see,  for  em- 
ployment and  the  establishment  of  the  new  home. 
New  York,  in  that  far-away  time,  was  of  course  very 
different  from  the  great  metropolis  it  is  to-day;  but  it 
must  have  seemed,  to  these  two  travelers,  a  very  big, 
very  busy,  and  very  empty  place.  If  it  had  not  been 
for  the  great-hearted  Yorkshire  tavern-keeper  whom 
they  chanced  to  meet  upon  their  landing,  I  dare  not 


46  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

think  of  what  misery  would  have  been  in  their  souls,  as 
they  looked  about  them. 

Small  space  was  there  for  sight-seeing,  however. 
"  I  must  lose  no  time  finding  work,  for  our  funds  were 
low,"  is  the  Doctor's  business-like  comment  at  this 
point  in  his  "  Memories."  They  departed  at  once, 
therefore,  for  their  destination  in  Philadelphia,  and, 
fortunately,  the  young  blacksmith  found  immediate  em- 
ployment at  a  forge  in  Shoemakertown,  seven  miles  out 
into  the  country.  Here  he  remained  for  almost  nine 
years,  at  the  work  of  making  claw-hammers.  This, 
as  he  tells  us,  "  was  a  new  craft.  I  had  never  made  a 
claw-hammer  until  then  in  my  life."  But  he  was  a 
skilled  workman,  and  before  long  there  came  a  time, 
as  he  loved  to  tell  in  his  later  years,  when  he  could  turn 
out  no  less  than  twelve  dozen  claw-hammers  in  a  single 
day.  He  soon  "  caught  the  fine  contagion  "  of  his 
work,  as  he  describes  it,  and  prospered  at  his  trade. 
Now  and  then,  however,  he  fell  on  hard  times,  and  the 
struggle  for  existence  became  a  bitter  one.  Thus,  in 
the  July  following  his  arrival  in  the  country,  the  forge 
at  which  he  worked  was  shut  down  for  repairs.  Work 
must  be  had  at  any  cost,  and  for  a  few  weeks  he  tossed 
hay  in  the  meadows.  Then,  when  the  crop  was  gath- 
ered, he  sought  out  his  employer  and  asked  for  a  job 
on  the  new  work  being  done  at  the  forge.  There  was 
no  opening  but  that  of  carrying  a  hod  for  the  brick- 
layers; but  this  was  eagerly  accepted,  and  for  "  a  full 
week  "  Dr.  Collyer  shouldered  his  hod  and  carried 
faithfully  his  loads  of  brick  and  mortar.  Then  in  Oc- 
tober, 1857,  came  the  great  panic,  and  again  the  fires 
went  out  and  the  anvils  were  silent.  Work  was  more 
urgent  than  before,  for  the  home  now  had  its  little  ones 


THE  MEMORIAL  SERMON  47 

to  care  for,  and  the  brave  young  father  went  forth  to 
accept  any  kind  of  labor  to  which  he  could  put  his  hand. 
For  a  while  he  dug  a  well  for  a  good  neighbor.  Then 
he  worked  upon  the  turnpike.  "  A  gentleman  many 
years  after  told  me  that  he  saw  me  breaking  stone,  but 
this  I  do  not  remember."  At  any  rate,  "  we  did  what 
we  could,  the  mother  and  I,"  as  the  "  Memories  "  tells 
us;  and  somehow  or  other  the  little  home  was  kept  to- 
gether and  the  lads  and  lassies  fed  and  clothed,  until, 
"  when  the  time  of  the  birds  had  come  and  the  grapes 
gave  a  goodly  smell,  the  fires  were  lighted  again  and 
the  hammers  rang  on  the  anvils." 

More  interesting  from  our  standpoint  this  morning, 
however,  is  the  story  of  the  religious  experiences  of 
these  years,  from  1850  to  1859.  Almost  as  soon  as 
Dr.  Collyer  arrived  in  this  country  he  presented  his  let- 
ters of  transfer  to  the  nearest  Methodist  church  in 
Philadelphia,  and  was  received  with  open  arms  by  all 
the  brethren.  At  the  very  first  service  which  he  at- 
tended he  was  asked,  in  good  Methodist  fashion,  to 
"  make  a  prayer."  Then  followed  what  he  afterwards 
described  as  "  the  scare  of  a  lifetime  ";  for  he  was  in- 
formed, to  his  utter  dismay,  that  no  one  of  his  auditors 
had  understood  "  the  half  of  what  he  said,"  because 
of  the  broad  Yorkshire  dialect  in  which  he  spoke. 
Here  was  "  a  panic,"  indeed,  for  he  had  set  his  heart 
upon  being  a  lay-preacher  in  America  as  he  had  been  in 
England.  But  the  fright  was  over,  almost  as  suddenly 
as  it  had  come;  for  the  eager  young  man  soon  con- 
quered "  the  new  tongue  in  some  measure,"  and,  what 
is  more,  the  people  after  a  time  did  not  seem  to  mind 
whether  they  comprehended  everything  he  said  or  not. 
The  reason  for  this  latter  fact  was  made  plain  in  after 


48  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

years,  when  an  old  neighbor  said  to  him:  "  I  didn't 
understand  you  for  a  long  time  when  you  came  to 
preach  for  us,  but  I  felt  good.  So  I  always  came  to 
hear  you." 

Thus  did  he  become  a  preacher  here,  as  he  had  been 
once  in  the  old  country;  and  ev^ery  Sunday  he  was  off 
bright  and  early  to  some  little  hamlet  on  the  circuit  in 
which  he  lived.  Week  after  week  he  trudged  over  the 
dusty  roads,  with  his  Bible  under  his  arm  and  the  word 
of  God  in  his  heart, —  preached  his  sermon  to  the  little 
group  of  farmers,  tradesmen,  and  artisans  which 
awaited  him  and  then  trudged  home  again  in  the  late 
evening  to  his  well-earned  rest.  He  was  not  paid  even 
so  much  as  to  pay  for  the  wear  and  tear  on  his  shoe 
leather,  but  rewards  were  many,  all  the  same.  Every- 
where he  found  good  friends;  now  and  then  he  picked 
up  a  book  or  discovered  a  library;  and,  best  of  all,  he 
had  the  inestimable  privilege  of  pouring  out  his  heart 
on  all  the  deep  things  of  the  spirit.  These  were  sunny 
days  with  him,  and  he  would  gladly  have  had  them 
continue  indefinitely,  but,  almost  before  he  knew  it, 
the  clouds  began  to  gather  above  him  and  the  first  Inti- 
mations of  the  gathering  storm  to  be  manifest. 

The  troubles  of  this  young  preacher-blacksmith  from 
Yorkshire  had  their  origin  in  the  fact  that  he  was  un- 
able, or  unwilling,  to  preach  the  doctrines  of  the  church. 
"  I  never  cared  for  what  we  call  dogma,"  he  tells  us 
In  his  "  Memories."  "  I  preached  much  more  about 
the  life  that  now  Is,  because  this  was  what  always  lay 
near  my  heart."  Now  preaching  on  moral  and  spirit- 
ual truths,  as  distinct  from  doctrines  of  belief,  was  as 
unusual  and  as  heretical  in  the  orthodox  circles  of  those 
days  as  preaching  on  political  and  Industrial  truths  Is 


THE  MEMORIAL  SERMON  49 

to-day.  What  the  good  Methodist  brethren  wanted 
was  dogma,  the  more  the  better;  and  this  was  just  the 
very  thing  for  which  this  great-hearted  and  broad- 
minded  preacher  cared  nothing  whatsoever.  Hence 
the  people  grew  restless  and  discontented;  and  by  and 
by  it  began  to  be  whispered  about  that  the  Yorkshire- 
man  "  didn't  believe  any  more  in  the  doctrines  so 
precious  and  essential."  Nor  was  this  wholly  untrue, 
"  but  not,"  as  he  makes  haste  to  remind  us,  "  by  flat 
denial  in  the  pulpit." 

Then  his  troubles  were  still  further  aggravated  by 
the  fact  that  he  became  an  Abolitionist.  On  one  ever- 
memorable  day  Lucretia  Mott  had  come  to  the  town, 
and  spoken  on  the  subject  of  slavery,  "  as  one  who  was 
moved  by  the  Holy  Ghost."  Instantly  the  young  black- 
smith, deeply  moved  and  permanently  persuaded  by 
the  glowing  eloquence  of  the  valiant  Quakeress,  sought 
her  out,  and  their  interview  that  night  was  the  begin- 
ning of  a  life-long  and  infinitely  beautiful  friendship 
between  the  two.  From  that  time  on  Dr.  Collyer  was 
an  ardent  Abolitionist,  "  to  the  wonder  of  the  kindly 
fellowship  of  the  saints  in  the  churches."  They  were 
profoundly  disturbed  at  his  association  with  these  de- 
spised and  hated  fanatics,  and  many  were  the  com- 
plaints which  began  to  be  spoken  against  him  in  all 
quarters  of  the  circuit. 

It  was  directly  because  of  his  association  with 
these  reformers  that  disaster  finally  came  upon  him. 
Through  Lucretia  Mott  he  had  been  introduced  to  Dr. 
Furness  of  Philadelphia,  the  minister  of  the  First  Uni- 
tarian Church  and  a  leader  of  the  Abolitionist  group. 
This  great  man  had  no  sooner  looked  upon  Robert 
Collyer  than  he  loved  him,  and  instantly  a  friendship 


so  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

was  joined  which  lasted  through  more  than  half  a  cen- 
tury. Many  months  had  not  passed  when,  in  all  inno- 
cence, Dr.  Furness  invited  his  Methodist  comrade  to 
preach  for  him  in  his  absence,  and  Dr.  Collyer,  in 
equal  innocence,  accepted.  Instantly  that  storm  which 
had  been  so  long  brewing  broke  in  violence  upon  his 
head.  "  This  was  the  last  proof  of  [his]  decline  and 
fall  from  grace."  Without  a  moment's  delay,  he  was 
summoned  to  appear  for  trial  before  the  presiding 
elder  of  his  district,  was  asked  certain  pointed  ques- 
tions which  he  could  not  answer,  and  then,  seeing  the 
significance  of  the  situation,  voluntarily  presented  his 
resignation  as  a  local  preacher,  which  "  the  good  man," 
as  Dr.  Collyer  called  him,  found  it  necessary  to  accept. 
He  was  not  deprived  of  his  membership  in  the  church. 
"  I  still  hold  this,"  he  was  wont  to  say  proudly  in  later 
years.  But  his  life  as  a  Methodist  was  over,  and  he 
went  out  of  the  conference,  "  not  knowing  whither  he 
was  going." 

The  end  had  come  suddenly,  and  yet  it  was  not  unex- 
pected, nor  was  it,  on  the  whole,  unwelcome.  He  had 
long  felt  that  he  was  out  of  sympathy  with  his  brethren, 
and  on  one  fateful  night,  in  particular,  it  had  been  im- 
pressed upon  him  that  he  must  say  "  farewell  "  sooner 
or  later.  This  was  on  the  occasion  of  a  great  revival 
in  the  little  town,  when  he  had  heard  an  earnest  young 
preacher  close  his  sermon  with  the  w^ords:  "  If  you 
could  hold  your  hand  in  the  flame  of  this  lamp  but  a 
few  moments,  can  you  imagine  the  agony  of  such  a 
burning?  But  this  is  no  more  than  a  faint  and  poor 
intimation  of  the  eternal  burning  in  the  fires  of  hell 
which  awaits  you  if  you  do  not  repent, —  the  burning 
not  for  a  few  moments,  but  forevermore, —  and  some 


THE  MEMORIAL  SERMON  51 

sinner  now  in  this  church  may  be  there  before  to-mor- 
row morning."  "  The  sermon  turned  me  sick  at 
heart,"  he  records  in  his  autobiography.  "  I  wanted 
to  rise,  and  say,  '  That  is  not  true,  not  one  word  of  it.'  " 
Yet  the  old  minister  in  the  pulpit  was  uttering  a  loud 
amen,  and  all  the  brethren  seemed  pleased  with  the 
discourse.  To  remain  longer  in  the  church  was  im- 
possible, and  therefore  did  his  dismissal  come  in  many 
ways  as  a  glad  relief.  "  I  seemed  to  draw  a  long 
breath  when  all  was  over,"  he  tells  us,  and  yet  it  was 
a  moment  of  bitter  pain  and  disappointment.  Of  all 
the  men  and  women  with  whom  he  had  been  so  long 
associated,  and  every  one  of  whom  he  had  loved  so 
dearly,  not  one  held  out  his  hand  to  the  departing 
heretic  or  said  a  word.  "  Intimate  as  we  had  been  in 
the  church  and  in  our  homes  through  all  these  years," 
he  says,  "  I  went  out  alone  and  lonesome." 

It  was  a  painful  experience,  and  more  painful  still 
was  the  gloomy  prospect  of  the  future.  Where  was  he 
going,  and  what  was  he  to  do?  It  seemed  impossible 
to  remain  in  Shoemakertown.  Furthermore,  as  he  now 
began  to  confess  frankly  to  himself,  perhaps  for  the 
first  time,  his  heart  was  not  in  his  work  at  the  anvil,  but 
in  his  preaching  in  the  pulpit.  He  was  more  a  preacher 
than  a  blacksmith,  skilled  artisan  though  he  was,  and  he 
knew  it!  Yet  what  pulpits  were  now  open  to  him? 
Where  were  the  people  who  would  listen  to  his  words 
and  accept  his  teaching? 

The  prospect  was  certainly  dark  enough,  when  sud- 
denly, as  though  by  a  very  interposition  of  Divine  Prov- 
idence, the  way  was  opened.  The  Unitarian  church  in 
Chicago,  which  supported  a  mission,  wanted  a  minister- 
at-large  for  the  poor.     News  of  the  need  came  to  Dr. 


52  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

Furness  in  Philadelphia,  and  he  recommended  the 
young  Methodist  blacksmith,  whom  he  knew  and  loved 
so  well.  Soon  the  call  came,  was  passed  on  to  Dr. 
Collyer,  and  instantly  accepted;  and,  before  many 
weeks  had  come  and  gone,  the  preacher  and  his  family 
were  far  on  their  way  to  Chicago,  a  city  as  strange  to 
them  as  Pekin  itself. 

Now,  with  his  arrival  in  Chicago,  in  January,  1859, 
begins  the  great  and  famous  period  of  Dr.  CoUyer's 
career.  The  details  of  these  years  are  so  familiar, 
and  on  the  whole  so  uneventful,  that  I  have  no  need  of 
narrating  them  at  length  at  this  time.  From  the  very 
start  his  course  was  one  continuous  progress,  one  mighty 
triumph,  with  ease,  fame,  influence,  friendship,  love,  to 
make  his  days  one  round  of  happiness.  Now  and  again 
there  came  sad  and  tragic  interruptions,  as,  for  instance, 
the  Civil  War,  when  he  went  to  the  front  as  an  army 
nurse  and  agent  of  the  Sanitary  Commission;  or  the 
great  fire,  which  destroyed  his  church  and  home,  ruined 
his  parishioners  and  scattered  them  far  and  wide;  or 
the  death  of  his  beloved  daughter  in  New  York,  which 
threatened  for  a  time  to  break  his  spirit.  But  always 
the  great  soul  rose  to  its  task,  and  the  great  life  went 
on.  Asked  by  a  friend  at  a  banquet  table,  in  the  late 
sixties,  how  old  he  was,  he  replied,  with  that  sweet  and 
gentle  humor  which  was  always  so  characteristic  of 
him :  "  I  am  on  the  sunny  side  of  forty.  It  is  proving 
sunnier  for  me  on  this  side  than  on  the  other." 

So  great  was  his  success  in  the  mission  for  the  poor, 
not  only  as  a  pastor,  but  also  as  a  preacher,  that  it  was 
not  surprising,  when  the  people  of  the  new  Unitarian 
church  on  the  North  Side  found  themselves  ready  to 
settle  a  minister,  that  they  did  not  call  any  one  of  the 


THE  MEMORIAL  SERMON  53 

well-known  clergymen  of  Boston  and  vicinity, —  the 
traditional  source  of  supply  in  that  day  as  in  our  own, — 
but  turned  instinctively  to  this  eloquent  Yorkshlreman 
and  gave  him  the  call.  The  proposal  seemed  Impossi- 
ble at  first,  and  it  was  only  by  dint  of  much  argument 
that  he  could  be  persuaded  to  accept.  Finally,  in  fear 
and  trembling  of  spirit,  he  gave  his  consent,  and  his 
long  and  famous  ministry  at  Unity  Church  began ! 
Year  by  year  the  fame  of  this  "  blacksmith  preacher,"  as 
he  now  came  to  be  known,  spread  ever  wider  abroad, 
and  people  from  far  and  near  flocked  to  hear  his  preach- 
ing. By  1870  he  was  the  best-known  preacher  in  the 
Middle  West,  and  his  fame  had  already  spread  through- 
out the  East,  outside  as  well  as  inside  his  own  denom- 
ination. This  made  Inevitable  at  this  time  his  entrance 
upon  the  Lyceum  platform;  and  for  many  years  he  ad- 
dressed great  multitudes  in  all  parts  of  the  country,  as 
one  of  the  most  popular  and  highly  acclaimed  lecturers 
of  the  period.  In  1879  he  received  the  call  to  the  min- 
istry of  the  Church,  of  the  Messiah  in  New  York,  and, 
accepting,  began  a  ministry  in  the  first  city  of  the  coun- 
try which  rivaled  In  distinction  and  general  influence  his 
earlier  ministry  in  Chicago.  For  sixteen  years  this  pul- 
pit was  his  throne;  and  through  the  power  of  his  voice 
alone  Its  name  was  made  familiar  in  every  quarter  of 
the  English-speaking  world.  Then  in  1896  the  burden 
of  his  years  began  to  weigh  upon  him,  and  he  relin- 
quished the  active  labors  of  his  pastorate  to  younger 
hands.  From  that  day  to  the  day  when  he  was  last 
stricken  he  lent  to  his  successors  the  blessing  of  his  de- 
votion and  support,  and  to  his  people  the  "  sweetness 
and  light  "  of  his  rarely  beautiful  old  age.  Sunday 
after  Sunday  he  stood  In  this  pulpit,  leading  hearts  in 


54  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

fervent  prayer  to  God,  and  bestowing  upon  bowed 
heads  his  gentle  benediction.  Often  he  spoke  his  word 
of  counsel  and  suggestion,  and  now  and  again  preached 
the  classic  sermons  of  his  earlier  days.  And  always, 
whether  speaking  or  silent,  he  was  with  us, —  a  radiant 
presence,  perfect  in  physical  beauty,  moral  grandeur, 
and  spiritual  peace. 

Now  what  shall  we  say  as  to  the  significance  of  this 
great  life  ?  It  must  be  admitted  at  the  outset  that  from 
the  worldly  point  of  view  it  is  not  remarkable  to  any 
very  exceptional  degree.  There  are  striking  and  im- 
pressive contrasts,  as  for  example,  between  the  sturdy 
blacksmith  at  the  forge  and  the  eloquent  minister  in 
the  pulpit,  between  the  immigrant  landing  alone  and 
friendless  at  the  Battery  in  New  York  and  the  pastor 
and  preacher,  beloved  by  thousands  and  known  of  tens 
of  thousands,  or  between  the  untutored  apprentice  pour- 
ing over  his  books  by  night  and  the  distinguished  au- 
thor and  clergyman,  standing  in  his  scholar's  robes  at 
the  University  of  Leeds,  to  receive  the  honorary  de- 
gree of  Doctor  of  Literature.  But  in  all  this  there  is 
nothing  really  extraordinary.  So  far  as  the  detail  of 
action  is  concerned  there  is  nothing  in  Dr.  Collyer's 
career  to  compare  with  the  achievement  of  Napoleon 
in  marching  from  an  exile's  haunt  in  Corsica  to  the 
throne  of  half  of  Europe,  or  of  Lincoln  in  climbing 
from  the  frontier  cabin  to  the  White  House,  or  even  of 
Andrew  Carnegie,  the  friend  of  Dr.  Collyer  through 
many  years,  who  landed  on  these  shores  a  half-century 
ago  the  poorest  of  the  poor,  and  stands  to-day  one  of 
the  richest  men  and  most  generous  philanthropists  that 
the  world  has  ever  seen.     Dr.  Collyer's  career  is  com- 


THE  MEMORIAL  SERMON  ss 

monplace  in  the  extreme,  when  compared  to  the  ca- 
reers of  such  heroes  of  active  achievement  as  these. 
But  wherein,  on  the  other  hand,  is  any  such  comparison 
as  this  possible?  In  one  of  the  most  famous  sermons 
which  he  ever  preached  James  Martineau  declared  that 
all  men  must  be  classified  under  three  distinct  headings, 
which  he  named,  respectively,  "  Having,  Doing,  and 
Being."  If  we  adopt  this  principle  of  human  classifi- 
cation, there  can  be  no  question  as  to  where  Robert 
Collyer  must  be  placed.  He  never  had  very  much  and 
he  never  did  very  much,  as  compared  with  what  has 
been  had  and  done  by  certain  great  giants  of  the  past 
and  present;  nor  do  I  imagine  that  he  ever  cared  very 
much  either  to  have  or  do.  Dr.  Collyer  is  remarkable 
not  for  what  he  gained  in  terms  of  dollars  and  cents, 
and  not  for  what  he  did  in  terms  of  mighty  achieve- 
ment, but  simply  and  solely  for  what  he  was  in  terms  of 
the  spirit.  Dr.  Collyer  was  simply  a  man  —  and  what 
a  man  !  What  more  can  be  said  of  him  ?  What  more, 
in  the  sight  either  of  God  or  of  men,  need  be  said  of 
him?  To  be  a  man  in  all  the  fullness  of  physical, 
moral,  and  spiritual  being,  is  not  this  enough  for  one 
life?  And  was  not  Robert  Collyer  all  of  this,  as  few 
men  perhaps  have  ever  been? 

In  considering  his  character  it  is  not  surprising  per- 
haps that  those  of  us  who  have  known  him  only  in  his 
later  years  are  inclined  to  think  first  of  all  of  the  ten- 
der and  gentle  aspects  of  his  nature.  It  is  his  sweet- 
ness, as  expressed  in  the  wonderful  smile,  the  warm 
hand-clasp,  the  loving  word,  that  first  comes  to  our 
minds.  We  shall  do  him  wrong,  however,  I  believe,  if 
we  declare  this  to  be  the  central  feature  of  his  life.  It 
Is  my  conviction,  born  and  matured  out  of  five  years  of 


S6  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

intimate  personal  association,  that  we  shall  not  really 
understand  this  great  man  until  we  come  to  see  that  his 
basic  characteristic  was  strength  more  than  sweetness, 
power  more  than  patience,  "  toughness  "  more  than 
"  tenderness,"  to  use  the  famous  phrase  of  William 
James.  Robert  Collyer  was  fundamentally  a  strong 
man.  In  physique  he  was  a  veritable  giant,  and  his 
outward  frame  did  not  belie  the  inward  stature  of  his 
soul.  It  was  a  strong  man  who  fronted  the  tragic  sor- 
row of  his  early  years,  and  stayed  the  havoc  that  it  was 
making  in  his  soul.  It  was  a  strong  man  who  crossed 
the  waters  to  these  unknown  shores,  and,  without  so 
much  as  an  acquaintance  to  lend  him  a  hand,  started 
life  anew.  It  was  a  strong  man  who  refused  to  sell  his 
soul  when  the  charges  of  heresy  were  leveled  against 
him,  and  went  out  of  his  mother  church,  without  so 
much  as  a  friendly  word  from  the  brethren  to  bid  him 
Godspeed.  It  was  a  strong  man  who  left  the  anvil, 
and  entered  upon  the  task  of  a  ministry  for  which  he 
had  received  no  teaching  beyond  his  rude  experience  as 
a  circuit-preacher.  It  was  a  strong  man  who  stood 
upon  the  ashes  of  the  "  holy  and  beautiful  house  "  which 
had  been  "  burned  with  fire  "  in  Chicago,  and,  with 
waste  and  terror  all  about  him,  conquered  the  despair 
of  his  own  soul  and  led  his  assembled  people  in  prayers 
of  praise  and  love  to  God.  It  was  a  strong  man  who 
beheld  the  slow  decay  of  his  vital  powers,  his  gradual 
retirement  from  the  triumphs  and  honors  of  public  life, 
and  the  assumption  of  his  familiar  tasks  by  other  and 
younger  hands,  and  felt  no  slightest  trace  of  bitterness 
or  envy.  There  was  no  weakness,  no  fear,  no  com- 
promise, no  surrender  in  this  man.  There  was  granite 
in  him  which  could  withstand  the  mightiest  assaults  of 


THE  MEMORIAL  SERMON  57 

chance  and  change.  Even  in  small  things  he  was  as 
strong  and  valiant  as  ever.  Witness,  for  example,  the 
story  of  how  he  was  one  night  conducting  a  prayer- 
meeting  with  Dwight  L.  Moody,  at  the  front  during 
the  war,  and,  when  he  heard  the  great  revivalist  declare 
that  they  were  going  to  the  battle  fields  to  save  the  souls 
of  the  soldiers  who  otherwise  might  die  in  their  sins,  he 
rose  to  his  feet  and  said,  "  Brother  Moody  is  mistaken: 
we  are  not  going  there  to  save  the  souls  of  our  soldiers, 
but  to  save  their  lives,  to  heal  their  wounds  and  comfort 
their  afflictions,  and  leave  their  souls  in  the  hands  of 
God."  Only  the  other  day  I  received  a  letter  from 
Rev.  Mr.  Heizer  of  Ithaca,  telling  of  an  incident  which 
took  place  a  few  years  ago,  when  the  Doctor  was 
preaching  at  Cornell  University.  At  the  close  of  the 
service  he  started  to  give  out  the  last  hymn,  and  had 
read  only  a  few  lines,  when  he  discovered  that  it  was 
most  unexpectedly  orthodox  in  its  theological  tone. 
Stopping  abruptly  in  his  reading,  he  paused  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  said  with  almost  startling  emphasis, 
"  You  can  sing  this  hymn  if  you  want  to,  but  I  won't 
read  it,"  and  sat  down  without  another  word! 

But  strength  of  mind  and  soul,  great  as  it  was  in  his 
nature,  was  not  all  by  any  means.  The  "  grace,  mercy, 
and  peace  "  which  were  supremely  characteristic  of  his 
later  years  were  always  in  him  and  always  made  up 
much  of  the  wonderful  charm  of  his  personality.  Here, 
if  ever,  it  was  true,  as  the  Scripture  has  it,  that  "  out  of 
the  strong  came  forth  sweetness."  It  was  this  ineffable 
gentleness  and  tenderness  of  spirit,  it  seems  to  me, 
which  won  him  such  a  host  of  friends  and  held  them 
for  him  through,  life.  I  like  to  think  of  the  brave  lads 
and  bonnie  lassies  who  must  have  gathered  around  the 


58  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

anvil  of  this  stout-hearted  blacksmith  in  the  early  days, 
just  to  watch  the  sparks  fly  from  the  hot  iron,  and  hear 
the  blithe  ring  of  his  voice  as  he  passed  the  time  of 
day.  I  like  to  think  how  the  simple  peasants  and  la- 
borers and  mill-hands  of  the  Yorkshire  hamlets  assem- 
bled on  the  Sabbath  to  listen  to  the  earnest  words  of 
the  young  man  who  preached  God's  truth  just  for  the 
pure  joy  of  it.  I  like  to  think  how  friends  gathered 
about  the  lonely  immigrant  and  his  girl-wife,  when  first 
they  landed  on  these  shores.  "  We  sought  no  friends," 
he  tells  us;  and  then  adds,  with  such  delightful  sim- 
plicity, "They  came  to  us  of  their  own  free  will!" 
What  could  be  more  natural?  When  will  the  flower 
not  turn  to  the  sun  or  the  bee  to  the  blossom?  It  was 
the  warmth  and  sweetness  of  this  great  soul  that  drew 
all  men  unto  him.  It  was  the  simple  tenderness  of  his 
big  heart  that  won  the  loyal  sympathies  of  all  who  saw 
and  met  him.  Strong  he  was,  and  gentle,  also  !  —  the 
gentleness  of  the  woman  wedded  in  perfect  union  with 
the  strength  of  the  man!  An  ideal  marriage,  of  which 
the  fruits  were  those  seen  of  the  Apostle,  "  love,  joy, 
peace,  long-suffering,  kindness,  goodness,  faithfulness, 
meekness,  self-control." 

But  I  believe  that  we  must  go  deeper  yet  if  we  would 
reach  the  fullness  of  the  stature  of  this  great  and  good 
man.  More  and  more,  as  I  grew  to  know  and  love 
Robert  Collyer,  I  came  to  think  of  him  first  of  all  as  a 
Saint  and  secondly  as  a  Seer.  In  speaking  of  him  as 
a  Saint,  I  do  not  refer  to  his  personal  virtues.  No  man 
ever  had  a  purer  soul,  but  it  is  not  this  fact  in  which  I 
am  interested  just  now.  When  I  describe  him  as  a 
Saint,  I  have  in  mind  that  conception  of  individual  sanc- 
tity which  is  set  forth  so  wonderfully  in  Saint  John's 


THE  MEMORIAL  SERMON  59 

Gospel,  where  the  Master  is  made  to  say,  in  his  last 
discourse  with  his  disciples,  "  I  sanctify  myself  for 
others'  sakes."  This,  strictly  speaking,  is  the  true 
meaning  of  sainthood;  and  it  is  from  this  point  of  view 
that  I  think  of  Robert  Collyer  as  a  saint.  All  through 
his  life  he  was  sanctifying  himself  "  for  others'  sakes." 
Such  joy  as  he  got  out  of  his  work  as  a  blacksmith  he 
derived  from  the  fact  that  it  gave  him  an  opportunity 
to  be  of  service  to  his  neighbors.  But  he  was  never 
really  contented  here,  for  the  reason  that  the  oppor- 
tunity offered  was  comparatively  small.  Hence  his 
early  activity  as  a  lay-preacher  to  the  Methodist  breth- 
ren. Hence,  also,  his  exceeding  great  joy,  when  the 
door  was  opened  into  the  regular  ministry,  and  the  field 
of  service  "  for  others'  sakes  "  was  indefinitely  ex- 
panded. What  a  ministry  of  personal  sanctification  his 
has  been;  how  patient,  how  tireless,  how  full  of  grace! 
How  many  there  are  to  rise  up  and  call  him  blessed,  for 
the  word  that  has  been  spoken  in  time  of  sorrow,  for 
the  smile  that  has  brought  light  and  hope  to  darkened 
eyes,  and  for  the  hand  that  has  been  lent  to  weakness 
and  despair.  A  saint  indeed!  —  a  Saint  of  the  Assisi 
type,  in  an  age  when  such  a  type  is  rare ! 

Then  I  have  come  to  think  of  Robert  Collyer  also  as 
a  Seer;  and  here  I  touch  upon  the  secret  places  of  his 
spiritual  life.  A  Seer  is  one,  if  I  mistake  not,  who  can 
see  the  things  which  are  "  unseen  and  eternal."  He 
believes  in  God  not  because  such  belief  is  rational,  but 
because  he  himself  has  verily  seen  God  face  to  face. 
He  awaits  the  immortal  life  as  he  awaits  the  morrow, 
not  because  he  has  persuaded  himself  of  its  reality  by 
processes  of  logic,  but  because  his  soul  has  actually 
gone  into  the  invisible  and  beheld  its  wonders.     He 


6o  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

trusts  that  men  are  good,  not  as  a  reasonable  principle, 
but  as  a  moral  experience.  It  is  in  this  sense  that 
Robert  Collyer  was  a  Seer.  He  knew  all  spiritual 
verities  by  intuition.  He  accepted  all  eternal  hopes, 
without  doubt  or  question,  as  things  transcending  argu- 
ment. So  knowing  and  seeing,  he  walked  among  men, 
pointing  them  to  the  glad  vision  of  God  and  their  own 
souls.  It  is  this  fact  which  explains  Dr.  CoUyer's 
strange  and  wonderful  power  over  those  who  came  into 
his  presence.  Men  whom  the  world  found  cold  and 
cruel  he  found  only  beautiful,  and  they  were  beautiful 
with  him  I  Men  who  were  bold  and  merciless  in  daily 
life  became  as  gentle  as  little  children  beneath  his 
transforming  influence.  This  was  supremely  illustrated 
in  a  remarkable  story  which  the  Doctor  told  me  once, 
and  which,  so  far  as  I  know,  has  never  before  been  made 
public.  Some  years  ago  a  woman  spoke  to  him  in  this 
church,  after  the  Sunday  service,  and  asked  for  a  brief 
interview.  She  began  by  saying,  "  You  don't  remember 
me.  Dr.  Collyer,  but  I  remember  you,  and  shall  never 
forget  you."  Then  she  told  her  story,  as  follows: 
"  Many  years  ago  you  married  me  in  Chicago.  At 
that  time  I  was  the  keeper  of  a  house  of  prostitution, 
and  my  husband  had  just  finished  a  term  in  State's 
prison.  When  we  came  to  you,  we  had  never  a  thought 
of  anything  but  continuing  in  the  old  life.  But  some- 
thing in  your  smile  —  something  in  the  way  you  spoke 
to  us  —  a  word  in  your  prayer!  What  was  it?  lean- 
not  say!  But,  when  we  left  you,  everything  was 
changed.  To-day,  sir,  my  husband  is  a  Congrega- 
tional minister  in  Connecticut,  and  I  am  the  mother  of 
his  three  children!  "     It  was  miracles  of  this  kind  that 


THE  MEMORIAL  SERMON  6i 

Jesus  wrought.     It  is  such  miracles  that  the  true  seer 
can  always  perform. 

Now  that  this  great  soul  has  gone,  what  shall  we  say 
as  "  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter  "  ? 

In  what  is  perhaps  the  greatest,  and  certainly  the 
most  famous,  sermon  that  he  ever  wrote.  Dr.  Collyer 
took  as  his  text,  what  I  chose  for  my  text  this  morning 
— "  Enoch  walked  with  God;  and  he  was  not,  for  God 
took  him."  In  the  opening  paragraph  of  this  sermon 
he  writes  as  follows:  "The  first  part  of  my  text  is 
the  most  striking  characterization  of  a  good  man's  life 
to  be  found  in  our  Bible;  the  last,  the  most  touching 
record  of  a  good  man's  end.  It  is  said  of  other  men, 
that  they  followed  after  God,  or  walked  in  the  way 
of  God;  that  this  one  died  full  of  years,  and  that  one 
satisfied;  but  it  is  reserved  for  this  man  alone  to  win 
and  hold  this  great  place  —  to  walk  with  God  as  with 
a  dear  friend,  voice  answering  to  voice,  hand  touching 
hand,  face  reflecting  face,  from  the  beginning  to  the 
end  of  life;  then,  when  the  end  comes,  death  is  shorn 
of  its  terrors,  casting  no  more  shadow  on  Enoch's  spirit 
than  if  it  were  the  spirit  of  a  yearling  child, —  the  life 
that  now  is  opening  into  that  which  is  to  come,  as  a 
clear  twilight  opens  into  day.  I  know  you  will  agree 
with  me  that  no  life  can  be  more  beautiful,  no  end  more 
desirable.  The  most  primitive  characterization  of  a 
good  man's  life,  this  is  still  as  much  as  can  be  said  of 
any  man,  more  than  any  man  I  have  ever  known  would 
like  to  say  of  his  own  life  or  predict  of  his  death." 

May  we  not  say  that  unconsciously,  in  writing  these 
lines,  Dr.  Collyer  was  writing  of  himself?     Like  Enoch 


62  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

of  old,  he  "  walked  with  God  as  with  a  dear  friend, 
voice  answering  to  voice,  hand  touching  hand,  face  re- 
flecting face,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  life." 
And  like  Enoch  of  old,  also,  he  "  died  full  of  years  "; 
and  death  cast  "  no  more  shadow  on  [his]  spirit  than 
If  it  were  the  spirit  of  a  yearling  child."  "  This  Is 
[Indeed]  as  much  as  can  be  said  of  any  man,"  but  it  is 
not  too  much  to  say  of  Robert  Collyer,  Saint  and  Seer. 


ADDRESSES 

Delivered  at   the  Memorial  Meeting   of  the   Robert 

Collyer  Men's  Club  at  the  Church  of  the  Messiah, 

New  York,  on  December  i8,  19 12. 

BY  J.  BURNET  NASH 

Mr,  President  and  fellow  members  and  friends, 
I  feel  it  a  great  privilege  to  have  this  opportunity  of  pay- 
ing tribute  to  this  great  memory,  but  I  do  not  see 
quite  why  I  am  asked  to  speak  to-night.  For  I  have 
not  had  the  intimate  companionship  with  Dr.  Collyer 
that  his  fellow  ministers  have  had,  nor  have  I  known 
him  in  the  family  circle  as  Dr.  Knopf  has.  Per- 
haps it  is  as  one  of  us  all  —  as  the  man  in  the  pew  — 
that  I  am  here.  But  before  mentioning  that,  may  I 
say  that  I  did  have  one  opportunity  of  knowing  Dr. 
Collyer  that  was  a  little  different.  Several  years  ago 
—  about  ten  as  I  recall  it  —  I  helped  him  in  the  Sun- 
day school  which  was  then  entirely  under  his  charge. 
How  lovely  he  was  with  the  children,  big  and  little, 
and  how  I  used  to  wonder  why  the  school  did  not  fill 
up.  For  the  Sunday  school  was  not  inspiring,  but  Dr. 
Collyer  was.  There  were  very  few  scholars  —  not 
as  many  as  now  and  the  Messiah  Home  children  used 
to  come  too,  then.  And  the  children  loved  him  too. 
When  we  used  to  call  the  school  to  order  just  before 
church  service  began,  he  had  always  a  little  children's 
talk  about  the  lesson,  and  they  all  listened  with  de- 
voted attention  and  often  asked  for  more. 

63 


64  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

And  how  could  it  be  otherwise!  We  older  ones 
have  sat  in  our  pews  Sunday  after  Sunday  and  felt  in- 
spiration flowing  to  us  from  that  benign  countenance. 
Just  to  look  at  him  was  uplifting.  There  was  always 
joy  and  cheer  in  his  message,  whether  in  prayer  or 
sermon,  or  simply  in  silence.  These  last  few  weeks 
we  have  looked  upon  the  lovely  white  lilies  that  have 
occupied  the  place  accustomed  to  receive  the  white  locks 
of  Our  Father  Collyer  and  we  in  the  pews  have  sensed 
what  it  is  that  we  missed.  Yet  we  must  not  miss  him 
—  he  would  not  have  us  miss  him.  That  was  not  his 
way.  I  once  sang  at  a  funeral  of  a  dear  friend  of  his 
and  Dr.  Collyer  gave  to  those  bereft  ones  his  mes- 
sage of  love  and  hope  and  even  cheer.  He  would 
not  have  us  mourn  —  it  was  for  us  to  honor  him  and 
to  honor  all  that  he  has  been  to  us  by  carrying  forward 
that  which  he  would  have  us  do  and  by  giving  his  cheer 
and  hope  and  bright  outlook  upon  life  to  each  and  all 
with  whom  we  may  come  in  contact. 

BY   S.    ADOLPHUS    KNOPF,    M.D. 

When  I  received  the  invitation  to  say  a  few  words 
in  memory  of  Robert  Collyer,  I  felt  that  it  was  a  great 
honor  to  me,  and  I  also  felt  that  It  would  be  very 
difficult  for  me  to  say  anything  that  had  not  been  said 
before.  My  only  chance  of  doing  so  is  to  let  my 
thoughts  take  on  something  of  a  personal  character. 

It  is  my  rare  privilege  to  have  known  Dr.  Collyer 
for  wellnigh  fifteen  years  and  to  have  taken  him  home 
from  church  nearly  every  Sunday  during  the  last  few 
years  of  his  life.  Occasionally  we  used  to  prolong  these 
delightful  and  never-to-be-forgotten  moments  by  a  ride 
through  the  park.     To  us  who  were  so  fortunate  as 


MEMORIAL  ADDRESSES  6^ 

to  pass  these  happy  times  In  the  presence  of  this  unique 
and  lovely  personality,  it  was  indeed  a  great  treat. 
He  never  failed  to  tell  us  an  interesting  story  or  relate 
some  appropriate  anecdote,  and  not  once  do  I  recall 
that  he  repeated  any  of  them.  When  he  left  the  car, 
he  rarely  failed  to  give  us  his  blessing  and  more  than 
once  smilingly  assured  me  that  he  would  speak  a  good 
word  for  me  to  St.  Peter  so  that  we  would  be  sure  to  get 
into  heaven. 

Of  the  many  interesting  stories  he  told  us  of  his 
life,  two  made  a  particular  impression  upon  me,  per- 
haps because  they  are  related  to  his  early  struggle  in 
this  country  as  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land,  in  which 
position  I  also  found  myself  when  I  first  came  to  the 
shores  of  our  great  America.  This  may  be  the  reason 
why  the  following  little  experiences  from  the  life  of 
this  great  man  come  to  the  surface  of  my  mind  when 
so  many  perhaps  more  dramatic  ones  lie  dormant  and 
out  of  the  immediate  reach  of  my  memory. 

He  related  the  story  that  once  on  a  very  hot  day, 
when  he  was  walking  over  a  dusty  road  from  Phila- 
delphia to  a  near-by  place  where  he  had  been  promised 
employment,  he  was  overtaken  by  a  gentleman  sitting 
in  an  elegant  carriage,  driving  a  pair  of  spirited  horses. 
The  gentleman  halted  and  asked  the  young  blacksmith 
where  he  was  going.  Learning  that  it  was  in  the  same 
direction  In  which  he  was  about  to  drive,  he  asked 
Robert  Collyer  to  enter  the  carriage.  To  the  young 
immigrant  this  was  a  strange  experience.  Never  in  his 
life  had  he  met  with  such  hospitality,  and  in  telling  us 
the  story  he  added  that  he  did  not  think  this  could  ever 
have  happened  to  him  in  the  old  country.  In  my  early 
wanderings   I   too   experienced   and  was  made   happy 


66  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

and  comfortable  more  than  once  by  this  genuine  Ameri- 
can hospitality,  and  I  can  well  imagine  how  deeply 
grateful  young  Collyer  must  have  felt  on  that  hot  sum- 
mer day  for  the  privilege  of  riding  to  his  destination. 

An  almost  identical  experience  with  that  related  by 
Dr.  Collyer  was  the  cause  of  my  meeting  my  preceptor 
and  benefactor,  the  physician  and  friend  who  in  later 
years  made  me  his  junior  partner.  It  was  on  a  very 
hot  day,  in  the  very  sunny  climate  of  southern  Cali- 
fornia, when  walking  through  dust  an  inch  or  more 
deep  to  the  distant  Los  Angeles  County  Hospital,  that 
an  incident  happened  which  proved  of  great  mo- 
ment in  my  professional  career.  As  I  was  plodding 
along  a  gentleman  in  an  elegant  carriage  overtook  me, 
and  stopping  his  horse  asked  me  where  I  was  going. 
I  told  him  my  destination.  His  was  the  same.  He 
invited  me  to  enter  his  carriage,  and  from  that  day  I 
became  the  pupil  of  Dr.  Hubert  Nadeau  and  he  became 
a  fatherly  friend  to  whom  I  am  in  no  small  degree 
indebted  for  whatever  little  success  I  may  have  attained 
in  life. 

A  second  story,  which,  perhaps  only  those  who  have 
lived  in  foreign  lands  can  fully  appreciate.  Is  the  fol- 
lowing one  which  he  told  us  on  one  of  his  last  rides 
through  the  park.  The  leaves  of  the  trees  showed 
their  beautiful  autumn  coloring,  and  changing  his  usual 
tone  of  mirth,  to  one  of  earnestness,  he  said,  "  When  a 
lad  in  Yorkshire,  I  used  to  become  melancholy  when 
autumn  came  and  the  leaves  began  to  wither.  I  have 
never  felt  that  way  since  I  came  to  America  and  saw 
how  beautiful  the  trees  turned  in  the  autumn."  This 
was  only  three  weeks  before  he  was  taken  ill,  but  I 
little  thought  then  that  it  was  the  last  fall  he  would 


MEMORIAL  ADDRESSES  67 

see  upon  this  earth.  I  shall  never  see  another  one 
myself  without  thinking  of  the  beautiful  inspiration  this 
great  yet  simple  man  could  always  draw  from  nature 
in  all  her  moods. 

I  desire  to  relate  one  more  incident  which  showed 
his  abiding  faith  in  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  It 
was  only  a  few  weeks  before  his  last  illness  when  I 
happened  to  have  as  my  guest  a  distinguished  German 
colleague,  an  eminent  physician  and  also  a  deep  thinker 
on  the  many  problems  of  life.  While  riding  home 
from  church  we  spoke  of  the  hereafter  and  the  destiny 
of  the  soul.  It  was  my  friend's  conviction  that  with 
leaving  this  body,  our  souls  would  be  absorbed  by  the 
great  universal  intelligence  and  our  individuality  would 
be  lost  forever.  He  spoke  in  German  and  I  repeated 
his  remarks  to  Dr.  Collyer  in  English,  who  smiled  but 
did  not  enter  into  an  argument.  All  he  said  was,  "  I 
should  like  to  be  somebody  there  just  as  much  as  here, 
and  I  know  I  shall  be." 

And  now,  since  he  has  departed  and  has  entered  into 
that  glorious  world  where  he  is  surely  somebody  as 
he  was  somebody  here,  what  can  I  say  about  what  he 
has  been  to  me  as  a  friend,  guide,  inspiration,  and 
example?  While  he  was  still  alive,  I  had  occasion,  in 
an  after-dinner  address,  to  pay  him  my  tribute.  I  have 
read  over  what  I  said  then  and  I  find  that  to-day  I 
cannot  say  anything  different.  To  me  Dr.  Collyer 
was  a  man  beyond  criticism.  His  preaching  used  to 
seem  to  me  like  a  talk  of  comfort,  encouragement,  and 
hope  from  a  loving  father  to  his  children  who  lacked 
the  beautiful  spirit  of  trust  in  God,  trust  in  mankind, 
trust  in  the  present  and  in  the  future  which  he  had  in 
abundance.     Whenever  I  think  of  Dr.  Collyer  I  am 


68  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

reminded  of  his  favorite  quotation:  "God's  in  his 
heaven,  all's  right  with  the  world."  Compared  with 
this  venerable  sage,  I  am  of  course  a  relatively  young 
man  and  I  liked  nothing  better  than  when  he  called  me 
"  My  son."  Yet  I  have  lived  half  a  century  and  have 
met  a  goodly  number  of  men  and  women  in  all  walks 
of  life,  but  I  do  not  remember  ever  to  have  met  a 
man  so  universally  beloved  and  honored,  not  only  by 
his  own  people  but  by  multitudes  of  people  of  the  two 
great  English  speaking  countries.  He  had  no  enemies 
—  only  friends  and  admirers.  Whenever  he  is  spoken 
of,  whether  by  Unitarians  or  people  of  other  beliefs 
or  of  no  beliefs,  they  speak  of  him  with  affection,  ad- 
miration, and  veneration.  His  sermons  were  spiritual 
messages  of  peace,  love,  and  kindness;  his  prayers  the 
outpouring  of  a  heart  full  of  love  for  God  and  men; 
his  benedictions  came  from  on  high;  and  his  smile, 
which  those  who  have  ever  seen  it  will  never  forget, 
was  like  a  glimpse  into  the  gates  of  heaven. 

These  are  essentially  the  words  I  spoke  at  the  dinner 
above  referred  to  which  was  given  in  honor  of  "  Our 
Ministers."  Good  Dr.  Collyer  could  not  be  present. 
I  sent  him  the  manuscript  of  my  little  address  the  next 
day,  and  here  is  the  letter  which  he  wrote  in  his  own 
strong  hand  in  answer  to  it: 

New  York,  Feb.  21,   19 12. 
"Dear  Friejtd  and  Dear  Doctor: 

"  When  I  read  your  report  of  the  brief  address  to 
the  Club,  touching  the  ministers,  my  own  heart  was 
moved  in  the  reading  as  I  am  sure  yours  was  in  the 
speaking,  and  my  old  eyes  were  dim  not  with  age. 
Many  words  have  been  said  to  me  and  about  me  here 


MEMORIAL  ADDRESSES  69 

and  in  my  mother  land,  but  no  words  more  sweet  and 
tender.  Forty-two  years  ago  come  May  I  was  invited  to 
preach  the  sermon  before  the  British  and  Foreign  Uni- 
tarian Association  in  London  to  my  wonder,  and  I 
confess  my  dismay.  I  went  over  with  my  heart  in  my 
mouth,  as  we  say,  and  still  remember  my  great  wel- 
come and  the  words  that  were  said  matched  these  you 
say  now  —  except  that  I  was  then  in  my  full  prime.  I 
mind  well  also  how  in  my  prime  I  would  wonder  how 
I  should  fare  in  my  old  age  if  I  was  spared  to  be  laid 
on  the  shelf.  Well,  here  I  am  among  the  oldest  and 
the  happiest  old  men  in  our  city,  with  your  address  un- 
der my  left  elbow,  and  can  think  of  no  finer  boon  than 
that  you  shall  reach  your  eighty-ninth  year  and  be  as 
hale  and  hearty  as  I  am,  with  the  dear  good  wife  and 
good  friends  past  numbering.  Bear  with  my  dim  old 
eyes  that  have  missed  the  line,  and  believe  me 

"  Your  grateful  friend  and  Pastor  Emeritus, 
"  Robert  Collyer,  Litt.D.,  D.D.,  1 823-1912." 

I  have  in  my  possession  no  document  or  autograph, 
no  gift  of  gold  or  silver,  which  I  treasure  more  highly 
than  this  letter  written  during  the  last  year  of  the  life 
of  our  saint. 

In  conclusion,  let  me  tell  you  of  a  tribute  paid  to 
Dr.  Collyer  by  an  entire  stranger  who  had  met  him 
but  once  and  only  for  a  very  short  time  and  who,  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life,  had  been  in  a  Unitarian  church. 
I  refer  to  the  German  gentleman  above  mentioned,  my 
friend.  Dr.  Ernst  Diesing  of  Hamburg,  whom  I  had 
notified  of  the  passing  away  of  our  beloved  Pastor 
Emeritus.     Here  is  what  he  wrote : 


70  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

"  The  news  of  the  death  of  your  venerable  Pastor 
fills  me  with  sadness.  From  the  short  conversation  I 
had  with  him  and  the  few  expressions  of.  his  opinion 
on  the  vital  problems  of  life  I  was  privileged  to  listen 
to,  I  feel  that  he  was  a  man  of  great  nobility  of  charac- 
ter, of  unusual  world  wisdom,  and  of  great  goodness  of 
heart.  His  remarkable  and  eventful  life  shows  him  to 
have  been  a  man  of  surpassing  spirituality  and  loveli- 
ness, yet  great  strength  of  character.  I  know  of  no 
priest  or  minister  of  any  denomination  throughout  the 
great  German  Empire  who  could  be  called  the  equal  of 
your  great  Dr.  Collyer,  nor  have  I  found  in  the  Father- 
land a  Christian  congregation  or  sect,  which  has  for  its 
precepts  so  much  Christianity,  such  a  wise,  practical, 
and  enlightened  Interpretation  of  men's  religious  and 
social  obligations,  and  such  large-hearted  tolerance  to- 
wards others,  as  your  Unitarian  Church. 

"  On  my  return  home  I  told  our  minister  what  I 
had  heard  and  seen  on  that  delightful  Sunday  in  your 
church,  how  and  what  your  ministers  preached  and  what 
they  prayed  for,  and  how  deeply  I  was  Impressed  by  the 
words  said  to  me  by  Dr.  Collyer.  My  pastor  listened 
attentively,  seemed  embarrassed  and  said  nothing.  But 
from  his  sermon  on  the  following  Sunday  I  could  see 
what  a  deep  Impression  the  narrative  of  my  American 
religious  experience  had  made  upon  him.  He  spared 
us  that  Sunday;  instead  of  discussing  dogma  and  ex- 
pounding orthodoxy  he  spoke  as  a  man  to  men  but  in  a 
Godlike  spirit." 

It  is  hard  to  conceive  of  a  greater  tribute  from  a 
stranger  in  a  strange  land  to  our  great  departed  min- 
ister and  to  the  church  over  which,  he  presided  and 


MEMORIAL  ADDRESSES  71 

whose  destiny  he  shaped  for  over  thirty-five  years. 
Robert  Collyer  has  justly  been  called  an  "  athlete  of 
God,"  an  eloquent  preacher,  and  a  wonderful  reli- 
gious teacher.  In  all  these  ways  he  attained  greatness, 
but  to  my  mind  in  none  more  than  as  an  example  to, 
and  an  inspirer  of,  men  to  do  the  work  of  God  on 
earth. 

BY  WILLIAM  M.  BRUNDAGE 

I  FEEL  particularly  indebted  to  Dr.  Collyer  for  the 
great  help  he  afforded  me  at  an  important  period  of 
my  religious  life.  I  had  reached  the  point  where  it 
was  impossible  for  me  to  remain  in  the  orthodox  church 
in  which  I  was  born,  and  continue  to  be  an  honest  man. 
But  where  should  I  go?  I  needed  a  fellowship  that 
would  grant  me  perfect  liberty  of  thought;  that  went 
without  the  saying.  But  I  wanted  a  fellowship  that 
would  help  to  foster  the  religious  life  I  possessed;  I 
did  not  desire  to  join  a  liberal  body  that  was  not  pro- 
foundly religious  in  the  best  sense  of  the  term.  I  was 
told  by  persons  who  pretended  to  know  that  I  would 
not  be  likely  to  find  either  of  these  requirements  in  the 
Unitarian  Church. 

I  had  known  Dr.  Collyer,  and  had  enjoyed  the  privi- 
lege of  entertaining  him  in  my  own  home  some  years 
before.  I  therefore  wrote  him  and  asked  him  if  I 
might  come  to  New  York  and  consult  with  him.  He 
wrote  me  a  cordial  invitation  to  come. 

I  put  to  him  these  questions  as  to  one  well  qualified 
to  help  me,  for  he  had  once  belonged  to  the  church  of 
which  I  was  a  minister. 

"  Freedom  in  our  Unitarian  body?  My  dear 
brother,  I  have  found  perfect  freedom.     We  have  no 


72  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

orthodoxy  of  any  sort  to  defend,  not  even  a  liberal 
orthodoxy.  The  brethren  have  all  been  so  kind  to  me 
and  have  put  up  with  all  my  foolish  idiosyncrasies. 
The  only  trouble  with  us  is  that  we  are  a  little  too  free. 
And  religion?  Bless  your  soul,  I  think  that  I  knew 
what  religion  was  in  the  old  church  which  we  both  love, 
but  I  have  found  just  as  warm  a  religion  among  our 
Unitarian  people.  They  may  not  say  quite  so  much 
about  it;  but  they  live  it." 

Freedom  and  religion  in  perfect  union  —  no  one  ever 
realized  in  his  personal  life  this  rare  combination  to  a 
greater  degree  than  did  Robert  Collyer.  It  has  been 
my  privilege  to  spend  with  him  two  weeks  at  a  time  at 
the  residence  of  a  mutual  friend  in  the  country,  and  to 
discuss  at  our  leisure  all  sorts  of  questions,  and  I  have 
never  known  him  to  manifest  the  least  impatience  with 
anyone,  no  matter  how  widely  he  differed  from  him. 
He  respected  every  man's  honest  opinion.  You  never 
felt  that  he  merely  tolerated  you;  he  sympathized  with 
you,  and  respected  you.  He  granted  you  the  same  lib- 
erty he  claimed  for  himself.  I  never  knew  him  to 
become  heated  in  an  argument.  He  believed  so 
confidently  that  the  truth  would  finally  prevail  that  he 
could  afford  to  be  perfectly  patient.  In  this  connection 
I  have  often  thought  of  that  passage  of  Isaiah,  "  He 
that  believeth  shall  not  make  haste." 

There  is  a  quality  of  character  that  is  supposed  to 
have  been  peculiarly  characteristic  of  the  ancient  Greek, 
the  radiant  joy  of  life.  With  this  joy,  however,  there 
did  not  always  go  the  tenderest  sympathy  with  all  suf- 
fering. No  ancient  Greek  ever  possessed  a  more 
radiant  joy  of  life  than  did  Dr.  Collyer,  and  yet  there 


MEMORIAL  ADDRESSES  73 

was  no  trace  of  hardness  or  lack  of  tenderness  in  his 

joy- 
But  once  in  all  the  years  I  knew  him  did  I  ever  wit- 
ness the  clouding  of  that  joy.  Four  years  ago  last 
March,  on  the  eve  of  a  long  absence  from  New  York, 
I  called  to  see  him  in  his  Broadway  study  to  bid  him 
good-by.  He  was  among  his  books,  but  he  was  not 
reading.  The  Monday  before  we  had  missed  him 
from  our  weekly  Ministers'  Meeting,  and  we  had 
learned  that  he  was  not  well. 

"  I  am  not  ill,"  he  said,  in  answer  to  my  inquiries, 
"  but  I  am  growing  old.  Brother  Brundage,  it  is  a 
hard  thing  to  grow  old."  And  his  eyes  moistened  as 
he  grasped  me  warmly  by  the  hand.  But  when  he  saw 
how  ill  and  troubled  I  was,  his  generous  kindliness  ban- 
ished his  own  mood  of  depression,  his  native  hopeful- 
ness and  buoyancy  of  spirit  reasserted  themselves,  and 
he  sought  to  cheer  and  comfort  me.  Six  months  later 
when  I  saw  him  again  his  joy  of  life  was  as  radiant  as 
of  old.  If  for  the  moment  he  had  faltered,  he  had 
won  a  still  more  glorious  victory,  the  victory  of 
faith. 

BY  LEON  A.   HARVEY 

There  are  certain  memories  of  Dr.  CoUyer's  life  that 
I  always  like  to  touch.  I  pass  over  all  the  familiar 
romance  of  his  early  days,  as  my  word  to-night  must 
be  brief,  and  I  come  first  of  all  to  the  wonderful  story 
of  his  entrance  into  the  Unitarian  ministry,  after  his 
many  years  of  lay  preaching  in  England  and  here  in 
America.  Lucretia  Mott,  the  great  Quaker  leader  of 
the  antislavery  forces,  met  him  and  heard  him,   and 


74  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

Introduced  him  to  Dr.  Furness  of  Philadelphia. 
Shortly  after  the  beginning  of  this  friendship,  the  Uni- 
tarian churches  in  Chicago  wanted  a  minister-at-large 
to  look  after  the  city's  poor  and  unfortunate.  Dr. 
Furness  recommended  his  new-found  apostle,  CoUyer, 
who  was  Invited  and  went.  Later  on,  when  one  of 
the  churches  was  without  a  minister,  he  supplied,  just 
to  fill  the  gap,  and  they  called  him.  The  responsi- 
bility frightened  him.  He  was  a  blacksmith,  while  his 
associates  were  educated  men  —  university  men  !  "  In 
a  year,"  he  said  to  Mrs.  Collyer,  "  I  shall  run  dry  and 
have  nothing  to  say." — "  Ah,  man,"  she  retorted  In 
the  Yorkshire  dialect,  "  it's  not  a  cistern  ye  ha'  inside 
o'  ye,  It's  a  spring."  And  so  to  his  own  astonishment 
it  proved. 

Then  comes  a  second  memory,  the  story  of  the  War. 
In  April  1861,  Fort  Sumter  was  fired  upon  and  the 
trumpet-call  for  troops  was  sounded.  The  black- 
smith preacher  had  In  two  short  years  of  service  be- 
come the  first  voice  In  the  growing  city  In  all  matters 
of  public  concern.  He  was  still  as  he  began,  the 
"  minister-at-large."  His  text  the  next  Sunday  morn- 
ing was  this,  "  Let  him  that  Is  without  a  sword,  sell 
his  garment  and  buy  one."  It  was  a  summons  which 
those  who  heard  never  could  forget.  Sunday  after 
Sunday  the  word  rang  out  from  his  pulpit  which  fired 
men's  hearts  for  the  mighty  conflict.  When  it  came, 
and  there  was  need  for  what  we  have  come  to  know  as 
Red  Cross  work,  Robert  Collyer  went  to  the  front. 
And  then  he  would  go  back  now  and  then  and  tell  the 
people  what  he  had  done  with  the  sums  committed  to 
his  charge  and  how  he  had  nursed  and  comforted  as  he 
could.     Here  Is  just  one  little  incident  which  is  an  In- 


MEMORIAL  ADDRESSES  75 

dex  to  the  rest.  He  is  on  a  Mississippi  steamboat 
taking  the  wounded  to  a  hospital :  — 

"  Here  is  a  man  I  must  attend  to  who  has  lost  his 
arm  and  is  sinking  into  the  shadows,  and  as  I  lay  cool 
wet  linen  on  the  stump,  he  tells  me  in  broken  sentences 
he  has  left  a  wife  and  two  young  children  at  home  he 
will  never  see  again,  and  gives  me  a  glance  into  his  brave 
soul  in  asking  what  hope  there  may  be  for  him  when  he 
passes  through  the  gates.  He  has  always  tried  to  do 
right  he  says,  and  be  a  man,  but  never  professed  reli- 
gion. '  You  will  go  right  home  to  God  your  Father 
and  mine,'  I  told  him,  '  never  you  fear.'  With  some 
more  words  from  my  heart  he  is  comforted,  and  as  I 
come  and  go  I  watch  the  face  grow  white.  He  is  very 
quiet  now.  I  asked  a  good  sweet  Presbyterian  deacon,  a 
neighbor  of  ours  in  the  city,  to  watch  with  him.  The 
noble  soul  is  quite  of  my  mind  about  the  future  for 
such  a  man,  and  when  all  is  over  he  comes  to  tell  me 
how  he  had  put  up  the  one  hand  gently  when  the  end 
came  and  closed  his  own  eyes,  and  then  laid  the  hand 
softly  on  his  breast  and  was  no  more,  no  more,  and 
yet  forevermore."  You  see,  do  you  not,  how  such  a 
preacher  touched  the  hearts  of  the  people  at  home  and 
how  both  his  Church  and  his  city  emptied  their  purses 
to  supply  him  and  his  "  Sanitary  "  helpers  with  funds. 
After  the  war  was  over  hundreds  told  how  tender  was 
his  touch  when  he  played  the  nurse's  part,  and  how  his 
shining  face  and  words  of  courage  and  cheer  seemed 
like  a  benediction  from  on  high.  This  he  did  on  the 
battle  field  and  in  the  hospital,  and  in  the  city  his  mov- 
ing appeals  brought  helpers  and  supplies. 

When  at  last  the  grim  struggle  was  over  he  turned 
back  to  his  beloved  church,   to   find  the  bonds  had 


76  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

strengthened  between  him  and  his  people  and  that 
somehow  his  name  and  word  had  gone  over  the  whole 
nation  he  had  sought  to  serve.  Calls  came  from  the 
Second  Church  in  Brooklyn  and  from  Theodore  Park- 
er's Church  in  Boston.  The  invitation  to  the  latter 
post  was  signed  by  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  and  Wen- 
dell Phillips.  But  none  of  these  things,  and  he  knew 
how  great  the  honor  was,  moved  him.  His  work 
was  in  Chicago.  The  people  sent  him  to  England  to 
rest,  while  they  built  a  new  and  larger  church.  And 
here  let  me  tell  some  of  the  things  which  befell  him  in 
England  on  that  visit  and  on  later  ones.  He  found 
his  good  mother  who  had  made  a  family  of  seven  com- 
fortable on  $4.50  a  week  sitting  in  the  same  old  chair 
he  remembered  as  a  boy  and  as  she  greeted  him  the 
tears  ran  down  her  fine  old  face.  It  was  from  her.  Dr. 
Bellows  said  after  seeing  her,  that  Robert  got  his  outfit. 
In  the  fields  and  hamlets  there  for  weeks  he  was  a  boy 
again.  It  was  on  a  later  visit  that  the  following  in- 
cident occurred.  He  was  famous  now  on  both  sides 
of  the  sea  and  a  Mr.  Ellis,  a  good  Unitarian  squire  in- 
vited him  to  dine  in  a  great  handsome  manor  house, 
where  Queen  Elizabeth  was  once  entertained.  In  his 
*'  Memories  "  he  says:  "  I  was  glad  to  go.  And  as 
we  sat  on  the  lawn  under  a  grand  old  tree,  chatting  of 
many  things,  my  good  host  said:  '  I  have  been 
told,  sir,  by  your  friend  that  you  emigrated  from  York- 
shire to  the  United  States.  My  family  came  south 
from  Yorkshire  many  years  ago,  where  my  father  was 
partner  in  a  linen  factory.  The  firm  was  Colbeck  and 
Ellis,  the  factory  was  in  Fewston.  You  may  have 
heard  of  the  place.'  '  Yes,'  I  answered.  '  I  worked 
in  that  factory  many  years  in  my  boyhood.     My  father 


'     MEMORIAL  ADDRESSES  77 

was  the  smith  there  and  worked  in  the  factory,  boy 
and  man  for  thirty-two  years.  He  was  brought  down 
from  London  and  was  bound  apprentice  to  your  father 
and  Mr.  Colbeck  in  the  year  1807.'  So  there  we  sat, 
the  sons  of  the  master  and  the  apprentice  after  eighty 
years  with  a  good  warm  grip  of  the  hands," 

It  was  on  this  later  visit  too  that  a  long-cherished 
dream  came  true.  He  had  not  breathed  his  wish  to 
anyone,  but  he  wanted  above  all  things  else  to  preach 
in  his  old  home  church  in  Addingham,  at  Ilkley  where 
he  worked  at  the  forge.  And  strangely  enough,  in- 
vitations came  from  all  the  former  Methodist  pulpits 
and  he  gladly  accepted.  On  this  later  visit  too  he  went 
to  see  an  iron  gate  which  he  had  made  while  working 
at  the  forge  and,  though  fifty  years  had  gone,  not  a 
rivet  had  given  way.  He  had  been  faithful  in  the 
little  things  and  mayhap  that  led  the  way  to  all  the 
good  things  that  had  come  to  him. 

One  other  thing  came  out  of  England,  and  that  is 
the  story  of  the  factory  bell.  It  used  to  ,wake  him 
when  a  boy  of  eight  at  5  :30  in  the  morning  that  he 
might  be  at  the  factory  at  six  —  no  wonder  its  tones 
were  harsh.  But  the  years  had  softened  the  memory 
and  when  the  factory  was  torn  down  Mr.  Collyer  wrote 
and  asked  that  if  the  bell  were  broken  up  a  piece  of  it 
should  be  sent  to  him.  For  answer  the  bell  was  sent 
express  paid  to  the  door.  What  should  he  do  with  it? 
Well,  up  at  Cornell  University  where  he  talked  once  a 
year  to  the  students  he  told  of  the  rivets  that  had  not 
started  and  of  the  bell  for  which,  he  had  no  use.  It 
happened  they  were  building  there  a  shop  where  boys 
should  be  taught  various  trades  and  on  the  shop  they 
needed  a  bell.     So  it  was  given  and  in  another  year 


78  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

they  summoned  him  to  come  and  ring  the  first  stroke 
on  the  bell  he  had  given  —  and  lo !  as  he  struck  it  the 
tones  were  silver  clear  and  all  their  harshness  gone. 
And  still  it  calls,  as  it  will  do  through  the  years,  and  it 
may  be  centuries,  to  come,  happy  workers  to  the  shop 
which  adds  new  dignity  to  toil. 

Let  us  go  back  now  with  him  to  Chicago  after  that 
first  happy  visit  to  the  mother-land.  The  church  they 
built  was  filled  Sunday  after  Sunday  for  six  happy 
years.  Then  came  the  great  fire  of  1871  when  a  large 
portion  of  the  city  of  Chicago  was  destroyed  and  with 
it  nine-tenths  of  the  homes  of  Mr.  Collyer's  people, 
together  with  the  church  so  recently  built.  Five  times 
that  fearful  day  the  Collyer  family  moved  to  see  the 
house  they  left  swept  by  the  rushing  flames.  One  ref- 
uge had  been  the  church.  At  last  a  house  separated 
by  a  little  lake  sheltered  them.  And  now  we  come 
to  what  is  perhaps  the  supreme  moment  of  this  poet- 
preacher's  life.  How  should  he  meet  his  people  and 
what  could  he  say  to  them?  The  question  was  no 
sooner  asked  than  answered.  They  would  meet  in 
front  of  the  place  where  the  church  had  stood  on  the 
next  Sunday  at  1 1  o'clock,  and  so  they  did.  They 
opened  their  service  with  the  hymn: 

"  Before  Jehovah's  awful  throne, 
Ye  nations  bow  with  sacred  joy, 

Know  that  the  Lord  is  God  alone, 
He  can  create  and  He  destroy." 

For  Scripture  he  found  in  Isaiah  the  words,  "  Our 
holy  and  beautiful  house,  where  our  fathers  praised 
thee,  is  burned  with  fire;  and  all  our  pleasant  things 


MEMORIAL  ADDRESSES  79 

are  laid  waste,"  and  then  as  the  tears  flowed  down  their 
cheeks,  the  stricken  people  sang  again: 

"  When  Israel  of  the  Lord  beloved 
Out  of  the  land  of  bondage  came, 

Her  father's  God  before  her  moved, 
An  awful  guide  in  smoke  and  flame." 

Then  the  preacher  spoke  to  the  people,  finding  like 
Bunyan's  Christian  a  key  of  Hope  in  his  bosom  which 
unlocked  for  them  the  dungeon  of  Giant  Despair.  He 
told  them  that  they  must  pay  him  no  stipend  for  the 
year,  that  he  could  care  for  his  family  at  the  anvil  if 
need  be,  and  they  must  rebuild  as  soon  as  possible. 
When  he  was  done  the  people  voted  "  with  something 
like  a  shout  of  gladness  "  to  do  as  he  proposed. 

But  this  man  was  not  simply  the  preacher  to  a  single 
congregation,  he  was  still  the  "  minister-at-large," 
His  words  spoken  In  front  of  the  charred  building  were 
telegraphed  all  over  the  world.  In  response  one  man 
asked  the  privilege  of  paying  Collyer's  salary  for  a 
year  and  sent  the  first  quarter's  pay.  Another  sent 
1,400  loaves  of  bread  for  distribution  which  the  Re- 
lief Association  accepted.  England  sent  him  funds; 
and  of  the  $5,000,000  which  the  stricken  received  no 
small  part  was  sent  In  his  name  or  as  he  directed. 
The  city  loved  and  trusted  him  and  a  nation  responded 
to  his  appeals.  Cornell  University  wrote  that  they 
had  a  thousand  dollars  for  him  If  he  would  make  and 
send  them  a  horseshoe,  which  you  may  be  sure  he  did. 

As  I  have  told  this  remarkable  story  I  am  sure  the 
life  has  Interpreted  Itself.  At  his  funeral  Mr.  Holmes 
with  consummate  Insight  said  that  Collyer  had  at  once 


8o  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

the  simplicity  of  a  child,  the  tenderness  of  a  woman, 
and  the  strength  of  a  man.  All  these  elements  were 
so  blended  in  him  that  touch  him  where  you  will,  hu- 
manity is  there. 

Because  he  was  thus  humanity  incarnate  he  knew 
how  to  interpret  human  life.  He  found  this  inter- 
pretation in  the  eyes  of  children,  in  the  faces  of  strong 
men  and  women  and  he  found  it  too  in  the  pages  of 
the  world's  best  books  —  for  he  had  learned  that  here 
is  not  only  the  distilled  wisdom  of  the  ages  but  here  too 
is  the  insight  which  glorifies  our  poor  dull  lives  with 
the  ideals  and  hopes  which  have  stirred  the  noblest 
souls  in  their  search  for  the  true,  the  beautiful,  and  the 
good.  These  great  souls,  as  well  as  men  and  women 
whom  he  knew,  became  his  companions  and  intimate 
friends.  It  is  good  to  think  of  him  in  these  last  years 
in  that  Broadway  study  surrounded  by  the  books  he 
loved  and  to  know  that  after  the  fire  in  Chicago  a 
friend  in  England  asked  him  to  write  out  a  list  of  the 
lost  books,  and  when  this  was  done  a  copy  of  every  one 
was  found  and  sent  to  him.  These  were  the  books 
upon  which  his  eyes  rested  with  singular  affection  as 
he  told  me  the  story  a  year  ago,  and  there  I  like  to 
leave  him  with  gratitude  in  his  great  heart  for  all  his 
friends  and  a  love  for  books  and  the  treasures  which 
they  hold  lending  to  his  fine  old  face  that  hint  of  immor- 
tality which  is  better  than  any  other  proof. 

BY  JOHN  HAYNES  HOLMES 

There  is  little  that  I  can  say  here  to-night  in  addition 
to  what  I  have  already  said,  first  at  Dr.  Collyer's  fu- 
neral, and  secondly  at  the  service  held  in  his  memory 
on  December  8th  last.     I  would,  however,  express  my 


MEMORIAL  ADDRESSES  8i 

joy  that  this  meeting  was  held  by  the  men  of  our 
church,  and  my  great  satisfaction  that  we  have  here  an 
organization  which  bears  his  honored  name.  I  well 
remember  how  delighted  he  was  when  he  heard  that 
our  new  society  had  voted  to  call  itself  the  Robert 
Collyer  Men's  Club.  You  will  remember  also  how 
graciously  he  expressed  his  delight  to  us  in  that  ever- 
memorable  evening  some  seven  or  eight  months  ago, 
when  he  sat  here  on  this  platform  surrounded  by  a 
great  clustering  circle  of  our  members  like  an  ancient 
sage  with  his  band  of  followers,  and  reviewed  for  us 
the  sweet  memories  of  his  romantic  career.  I  think 
it  pleased  him  to  know  that  he  was  not  forgotten  with 
the  advent  of  the  new  minister  —  and  to  realize  that, 
long  after  he  had  passed  away,  his  name  would  be  as- 
sociated with,  and  perpetuated  in,  the  work  of  such  an 
organization  as  this.  This  Club  of  ours  is  still  so  new, 
that  it  may  scarcely  be  said  to  have  found  itself;  but 
that  Its  members  chose  to  unite  themselves  under  Dr. 
Collyer's  name  and  were  so  fortunate  as  to  have  re- 
ceived at  its  very  birth,  so  to  speak,  the  baptism  of  his 
spirit,  gives  springs  of  strength  which  must  endure. 
That  we  may  be  worthy  of  this  great  heritage  must  be 
our  one  prayer  at  this  hour. 

My  relations  with  Dr.  Collyer,  through  the  nearly 
six  years  of  our  association  together,  were  so  close  and 
.tender  that  I  can  scarcely  trust  myself  to  speak  of  them 
in  any  such  public  place  as  this.  I  have  referred 
to  them  more  than  once,  since  the  Doctor  passed  away, 
but  have  never  given  anything  more  than  the  faintest 
suggestion  of  what  they  were  and  what  they  meant  to 
me  as  a  young  man  and  a  young  minister.  Of  one  fact 
I  cannot  refrain  from  speaking  again,  in  spite  of  its 


82  REV.  ROBERT  COLLYER 

personal  nature  —  partly  because  of  what  it  meant  to 
me,  but  more  because  of  what  it  reveals  of  him. 

I  refer  to  the  attitude  which  he  always  took  toward 
me  as  his  successor,  or  associate,  in  the  ministry  of  this 
church.  It  would  have  been  perfectly  natural,  to  my 
mind,  if,  after  thirty  years  of  service  here,  he  had  still 
exercised,  more  or  less,  the  functions  of  leadership, 
and  left  me  to  adapt  myself  to  his  wishes  and  habits 
as  best  I  could.  I  should  never  have  blamed  him,  I 
think,  if  he  had  put  me  into  the  position  of  a  subordi- 
nate—  nor  do  I  think  that  I  would  ever  have  had  the 
heart  to  object.  Nothing  of  this  sort,  however,  ever 
occurred.  PVom  the  very  beginning  of  our  associa- 
tion together,  he  took  the  position  that  I  was  the  min- 
ister of  the  church  —  that  I  must  lead  and  he  follow 
—  I  speak  and  he  obey  —  and  never  once  in  all  these 
years,  did  he  deviate  from  this  attitude.  So  far  from 
commanding  and  interfering,  he  never  even  advised  or 
suggested,  unless  I  specifically  sought  his  counsel. 
For  months  after  my  advent,  he  never  once  offered  to 
take  any  part  of  the  morning  service  until  I  had  re- 
quested him  to  do  so  —  and  in  later  years  he  fell  into 
the  habit  of  taking  the  responses  and  prayers  unbidden 
only  because  he  had  come  to  see  that  this  was  my  de- 
sire always.  Never  but  once  did  he  ask  to  preach  — 
and  this  once  sought  my  permission  with  the  utmost 
scrupulousness.  At  all  other  times  he  preached  only 
when  I  had  personally  invited  him.  Still  more  re- 
markable, to  my  mind,  was  the  way  in  which  he  re- 
frained from  all  criticism  of  my  radical  utterances  with 
which  he  could  not  agree.  I  believe,  to  my  own  deep 
pain,  that  he  was  oftentimes  grieved  and  perhaps 
alarmed  —  his  very  silence,  in  such  sharp  contrast  to 


MEMORIAL  ADDRESSES  83 

his  open-hearted  enthusiasm  when  anything  pleased 
him,  now  and  then  betrayed  unwittingly  his  inward 
trouble  of  mind  and  heart.  But  never  once  did  he 
criticise,  or  even  proffer  any  word  of  doubt  or  caution. 
I  would  not  have  you  infer  from  all  this  that  he  effaced 
himself  in  the  sense  that  he  withdrew  from  active  work 
in  the  church  or  from  active  support  of  my  labors. 
On  the  contrary,  he  was  busy  with  us,  as  you  know,  to 
the  very  end;  and  gave  to  me  such  love  and  loyalty 
as  have  blessed  the  lives  of  few  of  you.  I  only  mean 
to  indicate  that,  in  the  face  of  every  conscious  and  un- 
conscious temptation  to  do  otherwise,  he  deliberately 
yielded  his  place  of  leadership  to  me  —  let  the  church 
be  mine  for  the  doing  of  my  own  work  in  my  own  way. 
It  was  almost  embarrassing  to  one  of  my  years  to  have 
this  great  and  venerable  man  thus  efface  himself  — 
but  it  strengthened  me  also.  It  gave  me  a  fair  chance 
to  win  or  lose  on  my  own  responsibility.  And,  may 
I  add,  it  gave  me  a  feeling  that  he  trusted  me !  To 
hear  him  speak  of  me,  as  he  always  did  in  public,  as 
"  my  minister,"  at  once  lifted  and  humbled  me  beyond 
words  to  express. 

Now  in  saying  all  this  I  have  been  very  personal. 
But  I  have  felt  that  I  could  not  use  this  opportunity 
better  than  by  telling  this  little  secret.  Nothing  in  all 
Dr.  Collyer's  life  shows  more  convincingly  his  broad- 
ness of  mind,  bigness  of  heart,  and  greatness  of  soul, 
than  this  last  episode  of  all. 

It  is  just  In  such  a  relation  as  was  ours  that  most 
old  men  —  nay,  most  men,  young  or  old !  fail,  but  it 
was  just  here  that  he  succeeded. 


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